


Rooftop

by eds_spaghets



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Broken Family, Confessions, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Rooftop Meetings, ben's birthday party, bev mike and richie have a secret, eventually it will get mature, lead to complications, light drugs, mentions of abuse, parents here are basic shit, richie tozier plays guitar and sings i don't make the rules, two stupid boys doing shit to occupy time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-07-07 16:18:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eds_spaghets/pseuds/eds_spaghets
Summary: It’s no secret that Richie Tozier has a thing to enter through bedroom windows in the middle of the afternoon. It’s always been like this between them for most of middle school.However, when high school started, Eddie put a break on these encounters.One night during senior year, Richie and Eddie find themselves sitting side by side on the rooftop of the Kaspbrak’s house.Seems like old habits die hard.





	1. N.1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [134340inTEARs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/134340inTEARs/gifts).



> Here is the first chapter, oh dear.  
> I've been writing this for months? But a writing slump consumed me in the middle of it?  
> So yeah.. I have more chapters ready but I'll only post once per week so I have time to keep writing new chapters.  
> My laptop broke, so please don't give up on me if this takes some time to update or something, for the next few weeks there will be new chapters for sure.

**__ **

**_Monday   19.04.1993_ **

 

Richie wasn’t really thinking as he made his way up, grabbing onto tree branches, plumbing pipes and dented outside walls. But once again, he wasn’t really thinking when he descended out of his own window at 11:29 p.m. or when he got on his bike after that to make his way through a very familiar neighbourhood.

 His hands were numb, a couple of scratches visible from his climb. Once he steadied himself on the roof, he carefully peered inside the window in front of him. His only light source being the moon and the room itself, lighted up by a soft lamp.

He spotted Eddie by his desk, head buried in the crook of his arm.

’ _Maybe he's asleep.'  
_

   Richie tried to open the window from the outside but failed, which made him lose his balance. Inside the room, his source of admiration stood still, unaware of the movement. So, Richie knocked on the cold surface of the window with the metal of his rings, loud enough to make Eddie raise his head and look over to the source of the sound.

   His face looked funny, Richie thought. Tired sleepy eyes and mouth agape from his momentary nap. Eddie’s eyes opened fully as he stared dumbfounded at the boy outside his window. Richie watched him wipe the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand in a rush, which made him smile. Eddie always made him smile.

   Back in the ninth grade Richie started coming over to Eddie’s, ignoring the existence of a front door and rather much choosing to climb through his window just to hang out all afternoon. Eddie would always complain about it, and after they hit high school, their alone hangouts had minimized quite a bit since both of them gave up most of their time just for school work. However, what was more unusual was that Richie had never once come at night.

   Eddie got up, made his way over and slowly dragged the glass open, attempting to make minimum noise.

“Richie?” His staged whispers filled the air outside.

Richie smiled back at him, prompted up on the window edge. “Hey, Eds.”

Eddie stared. “You’re here.”

“I’m aware.” A few seconds of silence followed, the boys kept staring at each other.

“ _Uh.._ come in.” Eddie stepped out of the way so that Richie could get inside his room, but he didn’t move.

“Oh... uhm, I was thinking more like.. maybe we could go out?” Richie suggested while pushing his glasses up his nose.

Eddie blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “Rich, you know I can’t, my mom would kill me.”

“I wasn’t really planning on telling her, you know.”

Eddie tried to hide a grin under a scowl and a serious glare.

Richie sighed. “Fine, it was worth trying. But can we sit out here for a bit, at least?”

“On the roof?” He scanned the tiles under his window, trying to fight the thoughts of how dirty it must be. Eddie didn’t give Richie a chance to answer him. He turned his head towards his closed bedroom door and made up his mind. “ I suppose that won’t hurt.”

And with that, he climbed over the windowsill as Richie moved aside, contented. They sat side by side on his roof facing the streets of Derry.

   It was dark outside; a few street lamps were on far off. The moon was casting cold shades on surfaces, but the warmness of the desk lamp still reached them, making weird combinations of tones and colours appear on their skin.

“Were you studying?” The silence was broken.

Eddie nodded. “I was, until sleep won me over.” The answer accompanied by a dry chuckle.

“You’re not tough to beat, Spaghetti.”

Eddie gave in to a sided smile. “I strongly disagree.” He saw Richie look fondly at him. “But I won’t fight you right now.”

They kept quiet. When Richie’s eyes lost the momentary glint, he paid attention to the view in front of him. The lack of distractions made memories from the past hours flow back to his mind. He exhaled quietly.

“Won’t you ask me why I’m here?” Richie questioned, turning his head sideways to look at Eddie.

“I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

Richie sat with his elbows propped up on his knees while Eddie hugged his legs to his chest.  “There are nicer things to talk about, I guess.”

   Eddie gulped but nodded, he knew something was wrong, Richie wouldn’t bang on his window on a school night for the fun of it (or maybe he would) but Eddie didn’t have it in him to ask it out. Richie wasn’t serious most times so no one really knew how to act when he was.

   After some time debating if he should speak, Eddie cleared his throat. “It doesn’t feel so bad up here, right?” His voice was slightly shaky.

Richie looked at him questioningly. “Uh?”

“Derry." Eddie explained. "It almost looks peaceful from here. No danger to ran into on the streets, feels like no harm could reach us.” He spoke softly, shrugging off his shoulders.

“Yeah.” If Eddie noticed Richie’s glazed eyes, he didn’t mention it. “I wish it could be like this all the time.”

“Well, maybe it can be.” _What was he saying?_   “Maybe it is.” Eddie blamed it on the night to make him say these things.

Richie looked at him like he had grown another head. “Oh, I don’t know, Eds.” A smirk played on his lips. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t dreaming while we were attacked by a clown. Or when Ben showed us all that creepy history stuff, you know, _Derry’s_ history. Or all those times Bowers’ gang turned our lives into fucking nightm-”

“That’s not what I meant, Richie.” Eddie interrupted, frustrated. “All those things _definitely_ happened, but from here maybe it would still be a peaceful town.”

Richie narrowed his eyes. “So… play pretend?” He was finding it funny how Eddie couldn’t explain himself. “Run from your problems?”

“I guess.” Eddie sighed. “It’s probably too late for me to think straight.”

Richie smirked. “Straight or not, I still support you.”

Eddie glared at an amused Richie, he himself not finding it funny. “I guess it’s too late for you use your brain as well.”

“Ow, you wound me, Kaspbrak!” He said jokingly and giggled loudly. Eddie’s face looked slightly panicked as he shushed Richie apprehensively while looking back in the room behind him, expecting to see his mother bang the door open. But she didn’t, and his shoulders relaxed.

“Shit, sorry I was loud.” Richie fought back a smile “Mrs.K would be jealous we didn’t invite her.”

They both cracked soft laughs, unable to hold them in, before settling to a nice silence with small smiles.

  
   Minutes passed by, Eddie rested his chin on his knees and closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the nice weather of the night and the peace that came with it, for once not worrying about how late it was.

Richie played with his shoe laces. “My parents.” He breathed out.

Eddie opened his eyes, but didn’t say anything, knowing more was to come.

“They’re fighting again. It’s not like I’m sad that they are. I don’t care, _hell,_ I wish they would divorce already.” His shoulders slumped. “It’s just so overwhelming to hear them screaming all the time over anything. It’s makes me feel shitty. The only thing I want to do is leave the house the moment I get in, there’s this toxic tension all the time.”

Without giving it much thought, Eddie said  “Not from up here, there isn’t.”

Richie’s lips turned up. “I guess. They may be killing each other right now, but right here it doesn’t matter.”

“Here is fine.” Shoulders bumped against each other playfully.

“Here is hella fine.” Richie smiled at Eddie, magnified eyes locking with sleepless, yet content, ones.

Eddie had to look away, unable to hold their gaze for long. “How do you deal with their fights?”

_Why was his heart racing?_

Richie shrugged. "I dunno, I just wait it out, ya’know?”

He nodded in response. “Tonight was too much?”

“I guess. I really needed to get out of there.“ He muttered under his breath. ”Feels like I’m going crazy sometimes.“ Exhaling soundly, he rested his weight on his hands each side from his body.

Eddie did the only thing he could think of at the time, squeeze Richie’s hand slightly, feeling his harsh knuckles and the old rings under his palm. "If it helps, then you should definitely leave the house at those times.” Their eyes locked again. “Just, go _somewhere_ , to unwind. You know…”

“Your magic roof?” The mood lifted again. Eddie took his hand from Richie’s and shook his head.

“What a way to ruin the moment.” His tone light and airily.

“Oh, so we were having a moment.” Richie licked his lips, a smirk playing in them. “Thought it was just me.”

Eddie turned his face away with a scowl. “Shut up.”

Glaring at the back of Eddie’s head, Richie’s smile became more genuine, knowing he got a reaction out of the other boy. “Ditto.”

They stood like that for some minutes until one single car passed them. Eddie was lost in his thoughts and got brought back to reality when Richie spoke again.

“Thanks Eds, and sorry for coming out here so late. I’ll let you go to sleep now.” He started shifting his weight to get up, ready to make his way back down. “I think it’s safe to head back now.”

“Sure, no problem.” He watched as the boy made his way to the edge. “It was nice.”

“Yeah, it was.” They smiled at each other. “Night, Eds.”

“Good night, Richie.” Eddie started making his way back inside and watched as his friend disappeared behind the roof tiles, and later behind the trees, already on his bike.

He sat for a while in the window sill, one leg inside and one out. He let his mind wander freely and his blood flow quicker.

Somehow, Richie never fails to amaze him.

 

 

**_Friday  23.04.1993_ **

 

   A few days had gone by as slow as they would per usual. Monday night wasn’t brought up on any conversation. Eddie didn’t know what to think about it, so he tried not to think about it at all. Many times he failed, his mind wandering to Richie’s parents. He scolded himself for waiting by his window last night, in hope for something he didn’t quite know what could be, even though that meant Richie’s family was breaking. Hating himself for it, he settled on being happy that Richie didn’t come if it meant he was alright.

   Around their friends, he acted just like he always does. Eddie wonders if everything is better or if Richie just has the strength to toss it behind his back and focus on his own happiness. There was so much to him he would never get to understand and that knowledge killed him. Knowing he would never be close enough to protect Richie from things and from himself.

   Alright wasn’t the exact word that Richie would use to describe the way he feels. But it’s not that bad, he tells himself.  
Some kids have it worse.

   With a mother that let herself lose the battle against vices, along with a father that never learnt how to communicate feelings. To say that his household wasn’t ideal was an understatement. It felt quite broken. But Richie couldn’t really blame his parents for it, there were reasons behind the ways they act. Who was he to judge?

   Things a kid should take for granted, such as fresh groceries filling the kitchen, laundry done and warm meals. These had been things he used to have. Now these are things he has to do.  
His father tries his best, Richie knows this, and that’s enough to give him a pinch of hope. But Wentworth also has the weirdest mood swings that always catch him by surprise. One day he’s caring and trying, the other he’s angry and shouting. Blaming Richie for everything in his life that failed. Talking him down when he cooks or breaks a plate.

Violence is kind of their thing, but it’s mutual. One shove here, take one back. But you know, maybe it’s for the best.

  Today, when Richie parted ways with Mike and Bev after two hours spent in the former’s barn, he noticed that the house was uncharacteristically quiet. 

With the weekend ahead, he decided to take the afternoon for cleaning. Richie spent 2 hours folding clothes, wiping dusty surfaces, and sitting on the floor to stare blankly at things. Walls, the ceiling, the windows. He thought about how great it would be to leave again for a bit, like Eddie had said, or forever.

He felt weird every day. 

Deep down he knows he is just wasting his life, one day at a time.  
He would wake up, drag himself out of bed just to go to school on a nearly empty stomach and make it through the day. The only thing that still brings him some happiness are his friends. He could never let them go. But then he’d be back home, where he would try his best not to do anything that could upset his parents or be a trigger for more bickering.   
His life was a constant cycle, and he couldn’t be more bothered by it.  
Richie felt like he was sitting, restrained, watching a stop motion animation of what he would call _'his life’._

There, sitting in the middle of the living room, every window opened so that the alcohol smell would fade, he laughed. He laughed so much it hurt his chest, not his stomach.

 _“_ Well, this just sucks doesn’t it?” he asked to no one in particular, still laughing at how much it hurt to be, to feel, to think. His eyes stung. He fought it back, like always. 

When he made his way to bed, the sky was already darkening and the house was still empty.

 

 

On the comfort of his own house, Eddie kissed his mother cheek goodnight and neatly brushed his teeth, changing into a fresh set of pyjamas afterwards. He sat on his bed in the dark, facing the view outside.

   Minutes passed, and more after those, his feet hovered above the recently vacuumed carpet. Chest heaving and heavy, head wild with thoughts. His nostrils, along with his mouth, trembled with life of their own as his throat tightened. 

Eddie didn’t know why, but he was crying. He does it a lot.

   It’s something that happens sometimes. The urge to cry, the overwhelming feeling that something is wrong. Then, he would beat himself up trying to figure out what could be so wrong with his life that made him cry with such urgency. He could never find an answer for it, so he would cry more. He hated it.

   He sniffed soundly, the TV noise in the background to cover up for it. A lip caught up in his teeth to prevent it from shaking, trying his best not to whimper.  
As soon as the living room went quiet and silent, Eddie got under the covers and shut his eyes close.

He decided not to focus on the way his chest stung nor on his twisted throat.

He feels weird sometimes, empty and longing.


	2. N.2

**_Monday   26.04.1993_ **

 

Loneliness sucks. It fucking sucks and Richie doesn’t get it. He can’t wrap his head around as to why he was feeling the loneliest man in the world if he was surrounded by his most loved friends. 

As soon as the losers sat at a table on the canteen, Richie devoured his lunch.  
He was always eating at school, the vending machine being his first stop every morning.

“That’s n-no breakfast, R-richie.”  
“Never said it was, Mom." 

 

Sometimes, he takes out candy bars in the middle of his classes and the wrapper is always too noisy for the occasion.  
"Do you really need to eat in Maths, Richie?”  
“Well, Stan. Gotta eat when I’m bored, ya know?”

 

And all those countless times he takes a bite out of Eddie’s sandwich. Which of course leaves the poor boy disgusted enough to give up on eating it and just handing it over to Richie. 

 

They used to question him about it, why did he eat so much? Was that amount of food even healthy? But seeing as he didn’t put on any weight, they dropped it. And maybe because some of them started joining the pieces together and figured he wasn’t eating enough at home. Beverly was one of those people, who noticed and started contesting with anyone who would comment on Richie’s eating habits. She was always a step ahead.

So, as he was eating his lunch, no one cared anymore about the amount on his plate, or if he repeated afterwards, or maybe stole someone’s dessert. No, they knew better than to mention it.  
At first, Richie was self-conscious about it. Ever since his parents stopped acting like ones, he tried cooking, which didn’t really work if no one bought groceries regularly. So he would convince himself it was okay to eat freely around his friends, until it was. 

A couple seats from him, Eddie sat, stabbing his food with a fork and drawing patterns on the mashed potatoes.  
It had been a week since Richie and him met that night, and it fed on his belief that he was missing out on something. 

Does Richie usually go out at night? Do his friends go out at night besides the regular high school parties? Maybe they do.

 _‘I mean, we’re 17. I can’t blame them.’_ Eddie spoke to himself while finally eating some of his lunch.

He couldn’t help but judge himself for being so neat all the time. Bed by 11 p.m. on school nights, no such thing as getting drunk, or skipping classes. That was the right thing to do, right?  
He was overthinking, _again_. 

Eddie simply felt alive as he stepped out of his window while his mother was in the next room. Ashamed for feeling that way, he fought the urge to shake his head in shame. Maybe his friends were right about him when they’d say he was too uptight.

Fuck _,_ even Stan and Ben have more fun than he does. They let themselves be dragged by the losers to those pointless parties or to drink beer when they’d have a sleepover. Eddie always skipped those, the parties and the beers, not the sleepovers.

Maybe it was the adrenaline.  
Maybe it was the way the night felt on his skin.

(Maybe it was Richie.)

Whatever it was, he really wanted to feel it again. A tiny pinch of freedom, the tinniest _'fuck you, Sonia’_ that made it to his head as he did all the nice things he was supposed to do and still get denied if he asked to go out sometimes.

“Eddie, you still with us?” Eddie lifted his head to find Mike awaiting an answer along with five other pairs of eyes on him.

“No, sorry. Got in the mashed potatoes.”

Beverly spoke up. “We are planning on going to Bill’s after school to study and hang for a bit.”

Richie noticed the way Eddie’s eyes lit up just to fall again almost instantly. “Yeah, sure, but I’ll have to ask my mom first.”

Lunch carried on, and when Richie’s eyes met Eddie’s, they both smiled knowingly and sadly.

 

-

 

The water was scalding against Eddie’s skin, a failed attempt to keep his mind occupied with something. Something other than his emotions. It was a task that was becoming harder by the day, after two years of doing it. Since he was fifteen, he realized, he had been pushing down thoughts and feelings and _something_ about Richie.

He turned the hot water tap further.

_It’s wrong._

His skin was reddening under the overwhelming heat.

_Stop._

_Thinking._

The steam filled the bathroom slowly, making the air denser and harder to inhale. Eddie gave in to his rationality, finally setting the water to a normal, warm temperature.  
The way it felt hitting his tingling skin made him gasp, the sound echoing through the bathroom tiles. He closed his eyes shut and obliged his mind to change his trail of thoughts by starting to shampoo his hair and thinking back to the last hours of his afternoon.

 

When his last class of the day ended, he went along with the rest of the group to Bill’s house. It was the best option calling his mother from there, she would give it less thought since he was already in the location.

Once that was out of the way and they prepared a variety of snacks for their planned study session, the attic of the Denbrough’s house was filled with teenagers and textbooks sprawled on the old couch and a couple of beanbags and the floor.

It had been going fairly well, silence was prominent with some whispered conversations about the school subjects being studied.

 Just a peaceful time. Eddie, his beanbag, his philosophy textbook, a pencil in hand and Richie’s death weight colliding with the beanbag. Before Eddie noticed his body was being projected upwards, the textbook falling with a loud thud on the ground while the pencil went rolling on the hardwood floors. Eddie himself fell on his ass just three inches away from the cushioned seat.

That alone was enough to set him off on a bad mood, but then he had to deal with Richie’s exaggerated laugh and share the too-small-for-two seat with him.

The frustration built inside him only to grow more and more as the afternoon passed. Having Richie’s body pressed flush to his side was not a comfortable way to study whatsoever, but it sure was a good way of fading reality and focus on every inch of him he could feel, specially when Eddie was pretending to read the same paragraph over and over and Richie wasn’t doing the same by any means. Eddie was leaning slightly forwards while Richie set his elbow behind him, curling sideways around Eddie’s torso and breathing shallow warm breaths on the exposed skin of Eddie’s neck.

Eddie couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose or not, but he vacantly ignored it. Well, he faked to ignore it. It looked just like he was emerged in philosophy but he was way too deep in the way Richie felt. Whether it was their legs flushed together, or their hips joined by the sides, or Richie’s upper body minimally close to Eddie’s back, or of course, the warm breathing making goose bumps on his skin and the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Maybe Richie noticed, maybe not. But he didn’t mention it or teased him about it, just like none of his friends reacted to their closeness.

Eddie was going mad thinking he was the only one bothered by it. 

That would have been enough to take him where he is now, but life was making sure he got the message. These studying sessions tended to end in everything else other than actually being productive. It was only expected that after ten minutes of internalized panic from Eddie’s part, everyone started off on different topics of conversations. The books and homework were put aside when they agreed to play a random party game, Eddie was thankful to have an excuse to move as they settled on the floor in a circle.

Thankful that is, until they agreed to play Paranoia.

The game is simple. Everyone sits in a circle, the first person starts by whispering a question to the person sitting on their side, the answer is given out loud. Then a coin is flipped, if it lands on head, the asker has to repeat the question out loud for the whole group, if it lands on tail the question remains unspoken and the players only know the answer.

Eddie had to deal with stupid questions whispered in his ear, which was bad enough. But then he had to try to contain his blush when Richie looked him up and down and bit his lip while Bev asked him a question, to which he answered “Eddie”.

He bit his fucking lip and answered Eddie. What the well did Bev ask?

The stupid coin landed on tail.

Eddie decided that the name Paranoia was appropriate.

He arrived home half an hour ago, his homework yet to be done. His attempt to distract his mind and shower was not very well thought.

He wondered what Bev whispered to Richie that made him answer his name.  
He thought back to heat growing inside him when he felt Richie’s eyes checking him from head to toe, and what that could possibly mean.  
In the middle of the condensed air emerging from the water, he could almost feel it again. The hot breaths coming from Richie’s parted lips so close to his neck.

A shiver ran up on the spot.

What if Richie bit him there as forcefully as he bites his own lip?  
What would it feel like if Richie had whispered his name that way? Against his skin in heavy sighs?

He inched a hand further down his body.

 _Wrong_.

He took himself in his fist, eager to move and erase the built up tension from the last days.

_So wrong._

His heavy breaths filled the bathroom, luckily covered by the distinct water sounds.

This shouldn’t happen.

But those thoughts couldn’t keep him from doing it, only make him regret it as soon as he was finished and had to scrub his skin clean. Like many other times over the last two years.

He turned off the faucet and covered his face with a freshly washed and softened towel.

Two years.

What a waste of time.

 

Eddie joined his mother at the kitchen table 10 minutes afterwards and sat across from her. They talked throughout dinner about school, medication and plans for the week ahead. Eddie’s mind was out of it for obvious reasons, his focus point being the shame that roots inside his ribcage. He nods along the conversations and adds some words to it, enough to keep it going.

When he is asked about the evening he spent with his friends, Eddie answers automatically that it was very productive in studying terms. His mother seems satisfied and changes the subject, asking if Eddie wouldn’t blow-dry his hair before bed, as he always does. He says he didn’t have time after showering, but that she didn’t have to worry about him getting the pillow wet.

She claims it is unsanitary.

Eddie ignored her and excused himself out of the table, after all, he still had homework to finish due tomorrow. Once he was settled in his room in front of his textbooks, he focused on getting everything done. It was early, there was still plenty of time.

 

-

 

  Eddie was halfway through a sociology assignment when he heard a alarming noise coming from his backyard.

His eyes bugged open and he stared motionless at his window for what felt like an eternity, with a heart that was trying to burst through his chest along with a mind wild with thoughts and possibilities.

 _Not tonight, please not tonight.  
_ Not after … _that._

 It was only until continuous banging and hitting started that he practically flew to his window and threw it open. He stuck his head out just in time to see Richie with his arms over the roof tiles, attempting to throw his leg up as well.

With an audible gulp, Eddie groaned internally and whispered “ _What the hell?”_

Richie finally noticed Eddie’s presence and smiled groggily. His voice dragged. “Oh hey, Eds!”

Squinting his eyes at him, Eddie noticed the flush on his cheeks. “Could you be any louder?” he paused to catch his breath. Why was he out of breath? “What’s with the noise?”

Richie stammered and struggled through his words. “Your trashcan’s putting on a fight _._ ” He pouted. “ _The fucking bastard.”_

Eddie could not believe his eyes and ears as Richie continued to insult the trashcan underneath his feet, trying to get his leg up on the roof and failing multiple times.

“Could you move your pretty ass and maybe help me instead of staring?” He struggled with balancing himself on the wastebin, then laughed at himself. The pieces joined.

“Are you fucking drunk?!” The stage whispers sharp while Eddie’s eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“I am fucking drunk.” Richie sighed out. “Now help me!”

Eddie didn’t think his eyes could bulge any further or his heart could beat any harder in his ears right now.

He run the options over in his head. His hair wasn’t dry yet, if he got out he would surely get a cold. But what was worse? Getting a runny nose? Or getting a drunk (and loud) Richie inside his bedroom only to have his mom find them and do God knows what? The former seemed less scary.

All Eddie wanted was a good study night and time to submerge in unhealthy thoughts.

  He quickly rushed to his bedroom door and locked it from the inside, just in case. Then, he got out of the window and cautiously approached Richie, who had finally managed to get his leg on the side of the roof. Eddie pulled him by his forearms, afraid that they’d both roll out to the grass below. After crawling back near the window and far from the edge, Eddie realised how much it stung to see Richie in this state. He didn’t want him to destroy himself like that. Alcohol, to Eddie’s eyes, was just another way of self-destruction.

“Why are you drunk, Richie?”

Richie grabbed Eddie's arm while trying to sit comfortably on the roof. " _Uh_ , because drinking is fun.”

Eddie sighed softly, trying not to sound disappointed.  "What happen-“ Richie gasped loudly.

"Eds, your hair!”’

Startled from the interruption, his hands rushed to touch his hair. “What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s wavy!” Eddie blinked, then snapped. 

“Richie, I swear. For God’s sake-“He inhaled sharply. “No, scratch that. For _my_ sake, lower your damn voice, or my mom will kill us both.”

“But... it’s wavy.” Now with a lower voice, Richie intertwined his hand through Eddie’s hair and ruffled it a bit. “It’s pretty.”

Eddie groaned, defeated. “Don’t touch it, I didn’t have time to blow-dry it into place.”

“Don’t, then. It suits you.” Richie retorted, grinning, while Eddie hid a smile behind his sleeve.

“You are out of your senses.”

Richie didn’t reply and started leaning back to lay down facing the sky but his head collided with the windowsill, “Ow, shit.” and grasped it dramatically.

“Are you okay?” Eddie rushed to check for injuries, but stopped when Richie started laughing, not so loud as he was before. “You’re fucking impossible.”

Richie finally laid down uncomfortably on the roof tiles.

The sky was still pink and orange, the sun setting somewhere behind rows of houses. Eddie was staring worryingly at him but when Richie started humming songs under his breath and playing invisible drums in the air, he gave up on his concern.

Laying down on his back beside his friend, Eddie tried to ignore the shiver that ran up his spine when a breeze caught his humid hair.

  They were staring at the colour shifting sky with Richie’s muffled singing in the background when Eddie felt it again. The rush in his blood, a weight leaving his body. A tiny pinch of ‘being alive it’s worth it for moments like these’.  
He let a long breath leave his heavy lungs.

 

-

 

  Countless minutes had passed when Richie’s singing faded, which made Eddie look over to him. He saw a tight frown on Richie’s face, eyes were squeezed shut and chin trembling slightly.  
  
_‘Well, here it comes.’_ He thought to himself.  
  
It was true that Richie would easily get emotional while drunk, but Eddie doubted that drinking was what got him upset.  
  His heart broke at the sight of a tear rolling down Richie’s temple and getting caught on his ear.

“C'mon, Rich…” He nudged his side softly with his knuckles. “What’s going on?” Richie simply squeezed his eyes further, unable to stop himself from shuddering. He struggled through his words, his throat closing.

“Am I a burden?” He finally turned to face him with glimmering eyes.

Whatever was left of Eddie’s heart broke down in that moment. He stared back, shock and concern plastered on his features. “No, Richie. You’re not a burden, why would you think that?” He spoke softly.

"I’m always annoying everyone, right?” Richie gulped through his tightened throat. “Don’t try to deny it. I know it.”

Eddie sighed. “Richie, listen. You’re not a burden. You like to say what’s on your mind, so you do it.” He decided against continuing. “I really appreciate that you do, you know? You’re honest, you’re not afraid to talk, even if it gets you in trouble.” Eddie stared intensively at him, awaiting a reaction, a response. 

Richie’s cheeks were stained and wet, another drop rolled down his skin. He was lost in Eddie’s features, both from alcohol and admiration. His eyes darted lower to his lips, and up again, only to find Eddie dazed and flushed. He sniffed. It was hard to concentrate.

 “Do you mean that?” When Eddie nodded, he continued, his voice low and the sky darkening above them. “For real? Even when I can’t stop the mom jokes?”

“Let’s not go that far.” Eddie smirked. “You’re a trashmouth, yeah, but I envy you for being brave to speak up for yourself, and for others.”

When Eddie thought the mood was finally getting lighter, Richie started crying compulsively. “I’m so sorry Eds.” He trembled. “You are so nice to me, and I come here so late, and you still put up with my shit. And now I’m fucking crying and I don’t know why. Look at all the crap I make you go thr-”

“No, Richie, stop that.” Eddie was trying not to lose his temper at the same time as trying to lift Richie’s mood. “I like it that you come here, I like it that you climb the side of my house and that we can sit out here, I do. You’re not annoying me. If anything, I should thank you for bringing something fun to my neutral house life.” He rushed through his words so that Richie wouldn’t interrupt him to cry harder. “C'mon, Richie.. Stop crying, no need for that, yeah?”

“Okay..” Richie snuffled again and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Eddie cringed.

He still stared at him fondly when Richie took off his tear stained and fogged glasses to clean them on the hem of his shirt, which wasn’t really helping. Eddie couldn’t help but stare at the way his eyelashes glued to each other, giving Richie an even sweeter vibe.

“Here, let me.” He took the glasses out of Richie’s cold hands and fogged them up with his breath. His cotton shirt doing a way better job at cleaning the tick lenses.

“...Eds _._ ”

 _“_ Hm? _”_ He replied while cleaning the glasses. Nickname ignored.

“Maybe I could come more often, just like old times. Get you out of your misery.”

 _'Can he get more contradictory?’_ Eddie thought to himself. After all, Richie was blaming himself for coming over two minutes ago.

“Sure Richie, you could come more often.” He finally handed the glass frames over to him. “Just like old times.”

Richie placed them on his face, his eyes enlarging. “Mondays fine?”

“Why Mondays?”

“Cause Mondays suck, but then they wouldn’t anymore.”

Oh.

“Yeah.. on Mondays, that’s fine.” 

They kept quiet for a few seconds before Richie spoke up again.

"Eds."

"What?"

"...Your hair's really pretty like that." Eddie had to force an eye roll out of him so that he seemed annoyed by the compliment.

In the end, he did end up getting a runny nose and back aches from the tiles digging on his muscles, but none of that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter :)  
> as always, the comments are very much welcome and they are the real writer-mood boosters  
> So if you want... give me your opinions on it, i'd love to know them  
> Thank you so much for reading!


	3. N.3

**_Tuesday   27.04.1993_ **

 

 _“Shit.”_ Eddie’s muffled words were inaudible in the crowded hallways. _‘Shit, shit, shit.’_

He kept talking to himself and rushing through the sea of students towards his first class of the day. He desperately looked for his friends and as soon as he saw Beverly, Stan and Mike near the entrance to the classroom, his not so long legs launched forwards.

 “Guys!” He stopped running once he approached them, his breathing heavy and shortened. “Please, can any of you let me copy your homework?” He sounded desperate and positively hated himself in that moment. 

His three friends looked surprised and somewhat amused. Bev spoke up.

“Did Edward Kaspbrak forget to do his homework?” She placed a hand to her chest for exaggeration.

Eddie groaned.  "Yes, _revolutionary_. Now, please? Any of you?” He already started taking out a notebook and a pencil.

Mike handed him his own notebook and Eddie muffled a rushed ’ _thanks_ ’ as he plopped himself on the floor near the wall and started copying his answers, still trying to change some things so it wouldn’t be the exact same.  
When his brain started sounding an alarm to get him disgusted by the dirty school hall floors, Eddie pushed the thoughts away, right now was not the time.

"Is the guilt killing you already?” Stan smirked as they all looked down at him.

Eddie didn’t bother to lift his eyes, just shaking his head. “I fell asleep before I had time to finish.”  
Minutes passed by, the three of them regained their topic of conversation while Eddie rushed through the task, the beginning of the class fast approaching.

“Jesus! Why does everybody gotta talk so fucking loud?” The four heads turned just in time to see no one other than Richie Tozier pushing shoulders and fighting through a group of students laughing and shouting at each other. “It’s fucking 8 in the morning how can people be so energetic.”

Once he freed himself from the group, he grasped his forehead with one hand and dragged it along his face, messing up his glasses. He stopped in front of his friends.

“Morning suckers.”  Everyone ignored Richie’s choice for a nickname.

“Moody much?” Beverly asked him teasingly. Richie ignored her by looking down at Eddie on the floor, then to his standing friends again. “What’s up?” He quirked an eyebrow in curiosity.

Stan answered. “We could ask you the same thing.” Richie offered a groan, aware of his messed up, hangover appearance.

Mike turned to him. “Eddie fell asleep and didn’t finish his homework.”

With a click of his tongue Richie managed to say “Right..” Words getting caught up in his throat as he felt his skin prickling when looking down again at Eddie, who was staring back at him with the blankest expression he could manage.

Stan’s voice broke their gaze apart. “We were surprised too.”

Richie just shrugged. “Not a big deal, there’s a first time for everything.” He felt everyone’s eyes on him but ignored them and slid down the wall next to Eddie.

When Beverly, Mike and Stan resumed their conversation and got distracted from the pair on the floor, Eddie stole a glance at his side while his hand kept writing in a rushed motion. He noticed Richie’s head was buried on the crook of his arms, and his elbows resting on his bent knees.

He spoke quietly. “You okay?”

Richie turned his head slightly to the side, enough to peek at Eddie from his arms. “Shitty, thanks for asking.”

“Well, no one told you to get wasted on a fucking Monday night.”

Richie didn’t answer right away. He just closed his eyes and scrunched up his nose. “Yeah.. sorry about that, ya'know, being a pain in the ass and all.”

“Don’t worry about it." Eddie chuckled lightly and finally closed his notebook. "Just don’t repeat it. For real.”

Richie decided to ignore the order and change the subject. “You took my advice.” A chuckle muffled by the arm covering his mouth.

“Uh?” Eddie looked at him quizzically.

“Your hair.” He pointed. “You didn’t fix it.”

 _“Oh.”_   Eddie broke the eye contact. “Didn’t think you’d remember.”

Richie didn’t have time to answer as the bell rang right above them. He covered his ears and buried his head on his knees attempting to block out the sound. Even Eddie himself flinched at the ringing in his ears once it trailed off. He felt bad for Richie and planted a hand on his shoulder and patted it lightly. Then, he proceeded to get on his feet and reached with his hand out for him.

“C'mon.”

Richie looked up and took his hand to get up as well. He may be taller, but he was also skinnier, and not that strong.

Ignoring the burning sensation in their palms once their hands parted, they stood by the classroom entrance. Eddie searched for basic painkillers through his fanny pack.

“Here.” Eddie handed the two white pills on a closed fist. “These should help.” A thankful smile made its way on Richie’s lips.

“This is why you’re my favorite, Eds.”

Eddie rolled his eyes while closing his fannypack. An inevitable grin on his face “Sure."  

Playing with the pills in hand, Richie licked his lips in contemplation. “Got any water to go with these? Not everyone’s at your master level of dry swallowing, ya know?”

A furious blush started inching up Eddie’s neck. He forced on his best neutral face and proceeded to circle Richie’s figure to enter through the classroom door, leaving the other boy behind with a victory smirk.

_‘No wonder I’m so frustrated. Having to deal with this.’_

 

**_Monday  03.05.1993_ **

 

As promised, Richie came next Monday. Eddie half expected him not to show up, since he was drunk when he promised it. But Richie came, way more silently than last week, thankfully. Eddie was yet to figure out how his mother didn’t hear anything the last time or suspect at least.

After Richie sneakily used the first-floor window ledge, the plumbing pipes, and the advantage of being light to get himself on the roof near Eddie’s bedroom, he peered inside only to find it empty. His shoulders sulked slightly, but once he tried to slide the window open with his palms and it _worked,_ his face lit up again.

If he thought that maybe Eddie left it open on purpose for him like the old times, he wouldn’t mention it.

He made his way inside and sat on Eddie’s desk chair, flipping the pages of one of the many text books that sat upon it. After some time, his eyes stopped on some loose papers filled with neat writing that laid nicely on the front of the desk. His eyes darted over the words while his hands kept flipping the book out of pure boredom.

“What are you doing?”

“Holy fuck!”  He jumped on the chair and somehow sent the book flying out of his grip straight to the floor a few feet away. “Why are you laughing? It’s not funny, you scared the shit out of me!”

“Well, in my defence, you invaded my bedroom while I was having dinner.”

Richie peered behind Eddie, eyes glued on the bedroom door. “Is your mom-?”

“Out to meet a friend for coffee, something like that.”

“She has friends?” Out of all the jokes Richie had said, Eddie actually laughed at this one.

“Shocking, right?”

Richie smirked and ran his tongue over dried lips. Eddie tore his eyes away from it when Richie got up to pick up the book from the floor. He took the opportunity to sit on the chair.

 “I’m sorry but you need to entertain yourself for a bit because I really need to finish this, it was due today.”

“Due today?” Richie dropped the text book on the desk and then let himself fall down on Eddie’s bed, his feet hovering above the floor.

“Mr. Rosfeld gave me a new deadline.” He explained shortly.

Richie let out a short laugh. “You’re such a teacher’s pet. They all love the sweet innocent Kaspbrak, that’s why they let it slide so easily. If it were me, I’d be in detention.”

Eddie snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. Maybe if you’d actually do your homework more often than not, they’d consider it.”

“Homework’s pointless if you have straight A’s.” He put his hands behind his head and let his legs move back and forward, bumping on the bed frame in the process.

“That logic is doubtful.”

“Sure, sure.” He mumbled under his breath _. “Teacher’s pet.”_

“Quit it.”

 

-

 

After 20 minutes, Eddie was nearly finished and Richie was still sprawled on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Eddie quickly prepared his backpack for the next day and sorted out an outfit, leaving it folded on the top of his dresser. He padded his way through the carpet to turn off the lights and dropped on the comforter by Richie’s side. His eyes followed Richie’s gaze to the ceiling.

“What are you doing?”

A few seconds were followed in quietness until Richie answered.

 “Stargazing.”

“Are you high this time?” Eddie chuckled, but kept his eyes on the ceiling, there were shadows casted on it, coming from the poor outside lighting.

Richie didn’t answer. So, Eddie played along. “Seen any shooting stars already?”

He smiled at that. “A couple, actually.”

“Oh, really?” Eddie was amused. “That’s very unlikely, I’ve heard.”

“ _Pfft,_ I saw one, and then I wished upon it that another one would come.”

“Genius.”

Richie laughed quirkily before turning his head to the side, staring at Eddie. He waited until the other boy looked back at him. He didn’t know why he did that, but he really wanted to stare in his eyes for a bit. A fraction of a second was enough to keep him grounded, Eddie had that effect on him. If he ever felt like he was losing himself, he just had to keep focused on those eyes and reality would sink back in, or fade right out. He is yet to decipher that.

While he stared, he noticed how tired Eddie looked, and how deep his skin was underneath those tired eyes.

“Are things okay at home?” Eddie asked in a low tone.

Richie rolled his eyes and groaned. “Aye aye, Captain. You sound like Stan.” And before Eddie could push it more, he said “Close your eyes.”

“What, why?”

“Just do it.” And Richie closed his own eyes and faced the ceiling again.

Eddie, watching the boy curiously, gave in to his request and mimicked his actions. “Okay, what now?”

“Can you see it?” Eddie was about to joke on the fact that _their eyes were closed,_ but Richie answered his own question. “The sky, can you see it?”

Eddie smiled to himself. “ _Yeah_ , you’re so wrecked.”

“ _Shhh_ , don’t spoil the fun, Eds.”

He pushed his rationality to the back of his mind and sighed. “I can see it.” And he could hear the lightness behind Richie’s words when he spoke.

“It’s really dark out there.”

“Pitch black.” Eddie agreed. “Space is spooky.”

“Nah _,_ darkness is comfort.”

Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, his head was spinning a little. “How so?”

“There’s a hidden side for everything.” He cleared his throat. “Like, you’d never guess your mom is sexually active.”

Eddie audibly gagged. “Stop being disgusting, for fuck’s sake, Richie.”

No answer given, the topic was changed. “You still have your eyes closed?”

“Yeah.” Eddie immediately closed them again.

“Lift your arms up.”

And he did. Not thinking too much about Richie’s commands.

“It feels like you can touch the sky.” Internally, Eddie agreed with him.

They were both loving this, even if Eddie thought that they were being dumb. He was actually feeling okay with being dumb for once.

As the seconds passed, Eddie was feeling more lightheaded. Somehow, reality was pushing through his state of relaxation and he could feel the world slipping under his weight. He tried to grasp it, to no avail, and soon his lifted arms started swaying with life of their own, bumping onto Richie’s, who laughed quietly and bumped his arms back with Eddie’s, unaware of the situation.

Still, Eddie chose not to ruin the mood.

“This is better than meditation.” Eddie’s struggling voice filled the silence after some minutes.

“Wouldn’t know that.”

“You should try it someday.”

“Seems pointless. You said it yourself, this is better.” Richie smartly replied.

“Point taken.” Eddie finally let his arms drop to the bed. “I think I lost all the blood in my hands.” 

Richie opened his eyes and shook his arms a little, dropping them on top of Eddie’s. The action startled him when something solid collided with his knuckles.

“ _Ouch.”_ Eddie hissed and brought his fist to his chest. “What did you hit me with?”

Richie brought his hand between them, wiggling his fingers and showing of the two stud rings that he wore sometimes. “Sorry bout that.”

Eddie eyed Richie’s hand, taking in the two pieces that sat on his ring finger and thumb. “Why do you even bother wearing those?”

At that comment, Richie’s face turned to a fake hurt one. “Excuse me, they’re nice! _”_

“I mean… _yeah._ But they’re not very practical.” The room stopped spinning.

“Yeah? Says who?” The way Richie said it was passed as offended and Eddie saw the way Richie’s expression gradually crumbled into awkwardness.

“Sorry, they seem important, I didn’t mean to disrespect that.”

“They’re not.” Richie struggled, his mouth closed and opened twice before continuing “-I mean.. _ah fuck._ They’re just.. helpful.”

Although he wanted to question further, Eddie kept his mouth shut. It works wonders to make Richie speak. He was curious, alright.

“You know how I can get...“ Richie searched for something in Eddie, but he just saw confusion. “Seriously? Has no one ever noticed?”

“Notice what?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

A groan escaped Richie’s mouth. “Gosh, you all say I’m a loud piece of shit that can never calm down.” He was speaking so fast that there was no time for Eddie to protest against his words. “Well it’s true, and I have energy I need to spend so I thought what’s the best way to do it without annoying everyone? Well I still do, right? But that’s not my point. My point is, when I feel really fidgety and shit I just play with these without really noticing and that keeps my mouth shut like it should be right fucking now.” He took a long breath after finishing, waiting eagerly for Eddie to speak.

“I… never noticed before.” He was at a loss of words. “And you’re not a loud piece of shit…” He bumped a finger to Richie’s chest accusatorily.

“Yeah, thanks.” Richie clenched his fists besides his body, trying to restrain his needs of touching his hair or fixing his glasses at the moment. It would be stupid to start fidgeting while he was telling Eddie about that exact same problem.

“They look nice on you.” Eddie tried to choose his next words carefully. “Can I try it?”  Obviously, he failed.

Richie stared at him with unclarity on his face. “Try them..?”

“Yes, can I play with your rings?” Both their faces heated up unwantedly.

Richie’s brain worked against him when all of a sudden he tried to remove the jewellery from his fingers and fix his glasses at the same time. “T-take them.”

Eddie was really regretting his choice of words but tried not to look bothered by them as to not make the moment even more awkward. He took the pieces of metal on his palm and studied the two of them on the low light. He squinted his eyes to try and see better.

“They’re pretty worn-out.”

“Yeah _.”_ Richie chuckled from his side of the bed, still on an awkward mood.

Eddie made a mental reminder of _‘What to give Richie on his birthday’._

He fiddled them around in his hands and purposely ignored the fact that they would be too big to fit properly on him.

  
Lately, Richie had been learning that silence can actually be good sometimes, it just has to be the right one. The one kind that leaves you peaceful, the kind that lets you rest, not the kind that makes your head louder.   
Silence with Eddie has always been different, he never knew why. It made his head go quiet, and Richie never thought that was possible.

Inevitably, sleep slowly crept up on them. Both failed to hear the front door open.

That night, Richie found out that staring at a certain boy toy with those little pieces of metal was even more effective on keeping him quiet than when he does it himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is way bigger than the ones I already posted ;)
> 
> Comments keep me alive


	4. N.4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one hates me for this, I promise our boys will get their deserved happiness....eventually.  
> I apologize in advance if there are grammar issues or typos  
> seriously hope this doesn't suck.........

**_Monday   10.05.1993_ **

 

Sometimes, things are supposed to happen. Good or bad. But you feel so desperate for feelings, actions and _anything_ , so you let it come. You take it and drown in the here and now even if it kills you, and you’re only killed if you are alive. That’s what matters, right? To feel alive.

He didn’t know what to expect _._ He couldn’t possibly know what the next few hours were supposed to bring him, but Richie was looking forward for a nice landscape and the company of one particular person.

That was not what he got.

He didn’t have time to react to the loudness of a door being hit open or the harsh voice that echoed through his bedroom walls. If he did, he would have definitely made the final jump from his window to the grass just outside his room.

“Where are you going?”

 _Hell,_ he didn’t even have time to turn around and face his father. He was yanked from the window, backpack falling from his grip to the floor, laying there, forgotten.  
He quickly rushed to pick it up, knees dropping on the carpet just a little too hard.

 “I asked you a question, Richard.” Severe, harsh voice sounding from above and way too close.

Richie was pulled from the floor, harsh careless hands under his armpits to pull his body up. Doing his best to gulp down the fear, Richie tightened the grip on the fabric of the backpack close to his chest.  
“Dad-”

“Think I wouldn’t notice?” If he watched carefully, he could see the fire in the eyes ahead of him. “Was that it?”

_Yes._

“Do you think I’m that gullible?”

_You have been._

“Where were you going?”  
Richie cringed at the spit that landed on his face and avoided the piercing gaze.

“Nowhere.”

“Alright, open it.” Shock passed Richie for a few seconds, only to be hidden just as quick.

“What?”

Went nodded his head to the bag in Richie’s hands. “Open it. Or I’ll do it.”

See, it wasn’t even because of the contents inside, it was just the mistrust that was shown towards him. That’s what really bugged the shit out of Richie.  
So, for a moment, he lost his fear and allowed annoyance and anger to overcome him. He pushed the bag into his father’s space, forcefully, colliding with the man’s chest.

And just like most decisions Richie does, it wasn’t a good one. He could tell it as soon as Went’s face became _enraged._ This time, however, Richie prepared himself for what was about to come, and he kept the cold steady glare, trying his best to pierce through the man in front of him.

Something certainly changed, he thought. Instead of the usual hit to the face that would give him a bruised cheek or a split lip that he could easily lie about, he was pushed backwards by heavy hands that were still holding the bag.  
Richie almost rolled his eyes at him. Were they playing a fucking game of hot potato?

The only thing that wasn’t in the plans was a desk chair behind him. And since luck was always on his side, the impact sent him falling on his butt, and of fucking course he had to hit the stupid chair in the process of it. His nape took the impact, a bolt of pain shooting to his head and down his neck.

The air got caught up in his throat as Richie sat there, weight on his hands and ass, eyes closed in pain and tears threating to fall. But no sir, not tonight. Tonight Richie was eager to meet Eddie, to bring him stuff. Stuff that his father was currently tossing to the floor as he emptied the orange stripped backpack in his hands.

He watched as his belongings fell to the floor in front of him. Pajamas, a spare pair of underwear, the textbooks he needed for tomorrow’s school day, clothes he carelessly shoved inside for the next morning, and, landing with a plastic sound on the ground, two small tapes and a cassette player.

Last week, Eddie and him ended up falling asleep. It wasn’t very practical to wake up in the morning and realising he had nothing on him for the day ahead. So this time he thought he might come prepared, just in case.

As the tapes hit the ground, so did his heart. Or at least it felt like it.

“Spending the night somewhere?” Richie knew that Went wasn’t really asking, just pointing out a fact. “Friends? Girlfriend?” The front of his dad’s shoe nudged one of the tapes. Richie was stuck looking at them, breathing harsh and faltered. The words kept coming.

“These seem important to you.” Then he took in a sharp breath. “You know what’s important to me, Richard? Do you? The well-being of this family.”

If he wasn’t so worried about those tiny tapes, Richie would have barked out laughing. What family?

“Your mother. She needs us right now. She does not need a misbehaved kid sneaking out and bringing back trouble.” He saw his father leg twitch slightly, all weight put into the other foot.

_No._

“Obviously you don’t care about this family. So, why should I be interested in what you care about, too?”

_No, no, no, no. No._

Richie put all his weight on the palms against the floor and launched himself forwards just as he saw his tapes about to get stepped on. He was quick enough to grab them with his right hand but not quick enough to escape his closed fist being stepped on.

Every bone in his hand rubbed against another under tendons and flesh. His knuckles cracked with horrible pop! sounds that certainly shouldn’t be that loud. Richie actually _screamed,_ the tears unable to be held in anymore. The pain was excruciating _._

Maybe his dad didn’t notice. Maybe he just didn’t care. He aimed for the cassette player, stepping on it hard enough to break just before leaving.

As the door closed somewhere near, Richie was left with gritted teeth on the floor. He clutched his right hand to his chest and curled over himself, a sobbing mess.

_If I was gone would you notice?_

 

Minutes, or maybe an hour, later, the sun had set completely. Richie was still bent over himself, unmoving. His tears had yet to stop and _everything_ was aching. His fingers, where bruises were forming, his neck, a burning sensation settling upon it, his head and throat, from crying like a fucking baby, which he would never forgive himself for.

But mostly, his chest hurt. It hurt to feel the beats against his ribs, or the blood pumping behind his eyelids. It just sucked a little more than usual.

He gathered enough courage to lift his body from the floor, knees bucking and shaking. With his good hand, he put the tapes away and kicked the broken player to a corner on the floor while insulting it under his breath. He made his way to the door near his dresser and thanked the skies above or whoever responsible that he had an attached bathroom at the moment.

His breathing hitched when he put his hand under running water, the bathroom filled with curses and heavy breathing. After the poor job at cleaning the blood split knuckles, Richie collapsed heavily on the unmade bed. All that was left over in him being intense anger and hatred.

Sleep didn’t come to him that night, only the sky for company.

 

 

Some houses away, Eddie stood wide awake. His leg going crazy with all the bouncing.

_‘Did he forget? Did he remember but rather not come?’_

After an hour of waiting he gave up on stupid monologues and tried to use his time to be productive and study some more.  
It wasn’t really worth it.  
His mind was completely out of it, but he would rather stay awake for a little longer, just to be sure.

As time passed, his mother came up to his room to make sure he wouldn’t stay up for long and when she left, Eddie had to admit, his studying wasn’t going anywhere. Defeated, he gave in to his tiredness and let his body hit the mattress. Eddie didn’t understand if he was disappointed, angry, or worried.

But it was okay. It was fine. It’s not like this should really matter to Richie, actually, it shouldn’t really matter for both of them. And it doesn’t. They’re not kids anymore, so this was stupid.  
  
He drifted to sleep with the window left unlocked.

 

 **_Tuesday  11_ ** **_.05.1993_ **

 

A non-injured hand knocked against the reddish wood of Mike’s barn, echoing through the large space and bringing his friends’ attention to his uncertain frame by the entrance. Beverly’s head turned around from where she sat by her portable soundboard. She looked surprise to see him here.

“You came! Thought you’d bail on us all day.”

Richie kept his hand partly hidden as he stepped inside and made his slow way to the improvised stage they’ve been working on for a month now. His eyes landed on Mike, who was stepping out of a ladder onto the stage, interrupting his work of hanging up string light bulbs on the wood beams.

“Well, t’was my original plan. But I know how much you need my help to survive around here.”

“Why’d you miss school?” Mike’s question hung in the air for a little, hesitation evident on Richie’s face.

“Uh,‘bout that…we might have a bit of a problem.” Slowly, he lifted his injured hand up, shaking involuntarily.

“Holy shit, Richie.” Almost immediately, Beverly shot up from the stool she was sitting on. She leaped her way closer, holding Richie’s wrist gently and bringing it closer for inspection. “Is it broken?” Concern flowed through her words.

With his right hand being the centre of attention, his left one started picking at loose strands on the side of his jeans. “I was hoping you could tell me that.” His eyes landed on Mike, whose jaw was clenched in concentration while inspecting the colored skin. There were so many shades painting his skin that it could be disguised as an art piece.

“I don’t believe it is.” Mike shook his head twice. “When did this happen?”

“Last night.” He gently retreated his arm to himself, hating the attention.

“I mean, there’s only one way to be sure. But it doesn’t seem like it.” Richie nodded at his response, somewhat relieved for the new information. His head hung lower, partly hiding his face behind curls.

Beverly and Mike shared a look of realisation. She brought her hand to rest on Richie’s shoulders and stood by his side. As the air grew tenser, Richie turned around to take a good look at the space. They probably haven’t been there for a long time, he couldn’t see a lot of differences since the last time they were here, but it looked good either way.

“It’s looking nice, fellas.” He got closer to his guitar’s amplifier standing by the edge of the made-up stage and tapped a rhythm on it.  “Fuck, I can’t wait till Friday.”

Mike’s voice tone was surprised. “Richie, I don’t think we can do it Friday, bud.”

He turned around, confused and apprehensive. “What do you mean?”

Bev threw him a look. “There’s no way you’re able to play like that.” She gestured to his hand.

“I can play just fine!” Richie's eyebrows disappeared behind his curls _._  “We’re fucking doing it.”

Beverly returned to her stool while Mike sat down on the stage, feet still touching the floor.

“Richie, we love you. Be reasonable here.” Bev looked at him sternly. “It’ll be fine if we wait until the next Friday.”

Piercing thoughts filled Richie’s mind. Last night was just a lost opportunity. He had been waiting and waiting forever to do something like this, to show how much he’s worth and capable of something other than making others laugh. But the plan fell apart in front of him, and that left him pissed. So, no. He wasn’t going to let another chance get fucked up because of his stupid ass. He was straight up panicked.

  “It’ll bandage it up, I’ll fix it! Whatever it takes, I’ll be able to play.” Defensiveness floating through his words. More calmly, he added “It’s my picking hand. Nothing your lil' old pal' can’t handle.”

Mike crossed his arms. “We won’t fight you on this-”

“Mike!” Beverly was quick to intervene. “Did you not see what I saw?” She motioned to Richie. “There’s no way he’ll be fine in three days.”

“So, we give it what? Another week?” Both of them were having a silent conversation in front of Richie. He felt like puking.

“I’d say so, yeah.” She agreed, and both of them faced the visibly shaking boy.

Gulping down his disappointment, Richie shrugged and nodded at the same time. He wasn’t ready for the group hug that followed, stealing a shaky laugh from him while being held by his two friends. “Alright, alright! Go back to work you two. I’ll be a moral supporter today.”

Mike rolled his eyes with a grin on his face, climbing up the ladder once again to resume his forgotten task. As he climbed up, another conversation took place. Richie did his best to keep up without getting lost in his brain again.

“We told the Losers about the party today.” Mike’s voice was soothing on his ears. Richie’s eyes brightened up instantly.

“How’d it go?” He looked between the two of them. Beverly answered him.

“Well, just like any regular party invitation would.”

“Yeah, they don’t expect more than the usual.” Mike agreed with her.

Richie took a seat on the restored couch they kept near the stage. “But now we have to delay it.” The tone of his voice suddenly dull.

While Mike focused on the string lamps, Bev kept talking. “That’s easy to do, we’ll figure out an excuse. Bill is pretty stoked, though.” Richie snickered at that. “Ben and Stan, well, you know them. Not the biggest party souls, but they’re coming, since it’s _our_ party after all.”

After some seconds of hesitation by Beverly’s part, Richie cut through it. “Eds said he wouldn’t come, am I right?”

Her eyes softened. “Yeah… I’m sure he’ll give it thought and end up coming. He always does when it’s at our places.”

Richie nodded, thoughtful.

Mike climbed down the ladder one last time. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. Maybe you could pester him to come?”

With a smirk to his direction, Richie agreed. “Well, that’s one of my specialties. I’ll make him come, Mikey.”

He got a genuine smile in return, and Mike made his way to the power plug connected to the dozens of light bulbs above the stage. “Guys, it’s done. Shall we see it officially?”

Beverly squealed and got up excitedly while Richie ran to the barn’s door and closed it, to make the effect look like the real thing. “My ass is ready. Bring it on!”

He plugged it in, all the light bulbs hanging from the ceiling with different heights lit up in a warm orange tone. The barn was illuminated softly, it looked like a dream turned reality, which in a way, it was.

Richie allowed himself to get lost in the beauty of it. It was easy to picture it, way too easy to imagine them up there, having the most fun they ever had.  
He didn’t see the reactions of the other two, but he could imagine they were similar to his from the silence that spread between wooden walls.

“Quick update, my ass was _not_ ready.” He got a soft punch thrown at his arm.

“Guys, this is perfect.” Shooting a quick glance at Bev, he saw her eyes wide and shiny.

For a moment he was hit with a sense of guilt, because of him the plans were messed up. But looking back in front of him, to the cheap stage filled with their set ups, the nice couch they worked on together, all the cables and lights and decorations they put their heart into. It would be worth it.

They kept working on the space for some time, a few snacks in between. Richie did whatever he could, but honestly, he felt like he would be a better help sitting down, he was getting in the way of their work. But no one complained, so he kept going.

At the end of the afternoon, Bev and him left the Hanlon’s household and made their ways home, Bev’s bike by their side. 

Silence between Beverly and him was rare. That’s how they ended up here, with Richie explaining what really happened. Beverly already knows most things about him, this is just another one on the list.  
Not that he regrets it, though. He trusts Beverly with all his life, and besides, it felt good to have someone to lean on sometimes, someone who just listens.

But turns out, unsurprisingly, that Richie sucks at explaining himself.

“I just… I guess I wanted Ed-someone to know it. _You know_ …that I have this on me. _Fuck_ \- I don’t know. That I don’t suck entirely?” The more he tried, the more he fucked up the words. “Not that I have reasons to, I mean- I just-” He stumbled on words that couldn’t keep up with thoughts.

_Way to go, Richie, way to go._

With a sigh, he gave up his explanation. “Erm… Overexcitement...?” He offered poorly.

Beverly simply stared right ahead, hands grasping bike handles and teeth chewing lip.  
He quickly regretted saying anything at all, waving his hands dramatically as he tried to recover from the words.

“Fuck, just forget it. It even sounded stupid to me, I don’t know why I said it, I swear it’s not like-”

“It’s not stupid, Richie.” Beverly reassured him, he quieted down. Offering a mindless shrug in response earned him a frown from Bev. “It’s not, okay? I get it. I want to be there, prove something. Shove it in faces that I am capable of doing this, that I am something worth being proud of. You, more than anyone, should feel like that.”

Now it was too late to tell her that this was not what he meant. He didn’t want to prove something to other faces, or show _them_ that he has success.  
No, he wanted-

“But it’s not about that, is it?”

He turned his attention from the dirty sneakers on the asphalt to stare at light eyes piercing through his mind like a ghost would through a wall.

“It’s not about _them,_ is it Richie?” But he wasn’t capable of answering, not with words.

Was there a way to say it out loud that he wants more than anything to make a specific someone be thrilled for him?  
That he craves, more than life itself, for _one person_ to feel proud of his achievements.  
That he needs, like a root needs water, to hear something positive being said to him. For him.

_From him._

Was there a way of saying this without sounding desperate and needy? Richie was positive that no, it wasn’t possible. But Bev was here to break the laws of the universe. So, fuck it.

“Just tell me if I’m close.” Bev said, and he stared anxiously, waiting for her to start:

“I don’t need to prove myself to anyone at all, I owe no one nothing. Who here matters that much, right?” She left no time for answers. “Only…” Richie’s heart was stammering through his ribcage, reasons unknown. “There is actually someone who matters. Someone that I want to make proud, for good reasons. And that someone, for me, is Ben-”

And that’s when Richie snapped, cutting right through her words. He saw it coming.

“Uh, uh.” He pointed a finger at her like a mother would to her child. “ _No_. Let me stop you right there. That’s _not_ what this is about.”

“Richie.”

“Marshie.” He deadpanned back.  “It’s totally different, you and Ben are dating, Eddie and I are-”

“-cowards.” She finished for him.

Richie rolled his eyes at her. They had been having this type of argument for way longer than necessary. “I’m not fighting you on this again. Let me handle it.”

“Recording mixtapes with code lyrics is not handling it, Richie.”

He grasped his hair dramatically, for moments forgetting about his hurt hand. When he did, it was too late. A shriek of pain escaped his mouth at the action.

“Fuck, holy shit.” Curse words muttered under his breath. “Let’s just fucking drop it here, please.” He sounded exhausted. “I don’t need this today.”

“Consider it dropped.” Beverly stared at the ground, both still walking. Sometimes, Richie really knows how to make her mad with these idiotic moves and self-denial.

 

-

 

By the time they approached Richie’s house, the tension had died a little. Richie turned to her one last time before they parted ways.

“Wanna get wrecked? My folks won’t be home for another three hours.” Playful eyebrows moved up and down, suggestiveness in his voice.

She stopped in her tracks, bike by her side in front of the porch. “Sorry, Rich. Right now is just not a good time.”

Fiddling with the keys in his hand, Richie gave her his best smile. “Sure _,_ Bev, no worries.”

She hesitated a little before getting on her bike, glancing between him and the front door. “Will we see you tomorrow?”

“Well of course, darling.” With a sigh, she nodded, watching him go up the front porch stairs and unlocking the door.

“Richie?”

He turned around at her voice, waiting for whatever she would throw at him.

“We’ll make it happen.” And just like that, she biked away, leaving him stunned outside with a small list of unachieved dreams in his mind.

 

-

 

Eddie wasn’t worried, he was plainly curious. That’s why he decided, in the middle of third period, that he wasn’t having it with the whole Richie skipping classes again thing, and that he would check on him after finishing his school project with Ben that afternoon. To scold him, that is.

“I’m going to see what Richie’s up to before heading home. Any of you up for the challenge?” Stan asked the moment they arrived at the school's bike rack.

And just like that, Eddie’s plans were ruined. Well, _not ruined_ , but modified. Not that having company would be horrible, of course not.  
Cursing under his breath, both at Stan’s idea and his own internal monologue, he watched as Bill eagerly agreed to go.

Turning to face the remaining four, Stan awaited an answer. Ben and Eddie exchanged looks, they were headed to Ben’s house for lunch and the afternoon that followed, but in their silent conversation, they both agreed that they could make a stop before that.

“Sure, we’ll come.” Eddie settled his previous decision.

“As much as I’d like to, I have the afternoon taken to spend it with my aunt.” Beverly added with a light frown.

“I can’t go along today, the farm needs my help.” Mike added apologetically. “But you guys go ahead and tell us if something’s up, alright?”

“Sure, I’ll ring you both if needed.” Stan nodded while they got closer to their separation point.

Sighing to himself, Eddie spoke up. “I’m sure he just slept in from the weekend and decided to skip the whole day.”

 

-

 

Ten minutes after they parted ways with Mike and Bev, the four boys chatted along the roads that were taking them closer and closer to the Tozier’s home, and Eddie wasn’t so sure anymore that this was just curiosity.  
So, what? Maybe he was concerned, preoccupied. That’s a regular feeling towards friends, so there’s no reason for him to overthink his own emotions at the moment.

The moment they ring the doorbell and no one answers is the moment when Eddie begins to think that maybe they should be worried. He convinces himself that nothing is wrong, Richie simply missed the day, he may be sleeping, or busy at the moment. That’s about it. Not that they could really do anything more.

Eddie could see in Stan’s eyes that he, too, wasn’t sure if everything was fine. But Bill dismissed the topic entirely, and Ben was quick to throw options in the air of ways that Richie could be spending his time. So, might as well let it go, and use the rest of his afternoon wisely.

He managed to stick to his plan until 5 p.m. and Ben must have noticed that Eddie was getting distracted, because he put his pencil down on top of multiple papers and old drafts and looked at him kindly.

“Need a break?” He asked shortly, pointing to the kitchen entrance. “I think my mom mentioned some lemonade left for us?” The question wasn’t really one, more like a suggestion. Eddie was eager to accept it, and they both stretched their legs once they got up from hours upon hours of sitting down.  
Eddie fought back a lightheaded feeling that left his knees trembling while he attempted to walk towards the kitchen behind Ben. But when he squeezed his eyes shut to falter away the dizziness, he ended up hitting the corner of a chest of drawers with his hip while leaving the office of Ben’s house. The impact caused the wood frame to hit the wall and the sound made Ben quickly turn around to find Eddie bent down and grasping his side dramatically.

He managed to squeeze out “It’s fine, I’m fine.” And then attempted to adjust the piece of furniture back to the way it was. “Just walked too close to it, sorry.”

But Ben, the nicest person Eddie has ever met, simply shook his head and helped Eddie with moving the piece back into place. “Are you hurt?” He asked nonetheless. Eddie shook his head with a small smile and motioned for them to keep walking.

 _Get a grip on yourself, Eddie._ He thought while sighing and watching Ben pour them both two glasses of fresh currant lemonade. He takes the glass with both hands while leaning back to rest against the kitchen counter. How can a lemonade look so pretty? Eddie doesn’t know, but he does know that if anyone was capable of making regular things look better, it was Ben’s parents. They are amazing, kind and accepting, always eager to have Eddie and the others over. Ben’s kind heart certainly comes from them.

They sat again at the round table situated in the office and Eddie sighed deeply at the sight of all the research notes and sketches that Ben had made previously.

Ben looked at Eddie with pity for the tired boy. “Eddie, if you want to stop, it’s fine.”

Tearing his eyes away from the cup, Eddie avoided looking into Ben’s eyes. “Ben, I’m sorry. Is that a chance we can finish this bit another day this week?” He gave no time for answers, his mind turning to think about any free time they’d have this week. “Maybe Friday?” Eddie looked at him expectantly.

“Friday we have the party that Mike and Bev planned...” he sounded thoughtful. “But we always have the weekend.”

Eddie groaned audibly and rested his head on his arms.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll make it up to you by finishing on my own on Friday.”

“Oooh c’mon, Eddie. You have to come, it’s a losers' initiative. You agreed to go to those.” Ben raised his eyebrows at him.

“I know but... these last projects, and tests...”

“But it’s Friday, you have the whole weekend. Besides, who will keep me company on our 'ogle the crush dancing while we stand in a corner pretending to drink'?”

Eddie’s head snapped at him, words forming and dying just as quickly in his mouth. “I- what?”

Ben smiled at him. “I need your company while Beverly is being the party soul. You’re my one and only for these things.”

Oh. Right.

And Eddie was about to search for another excuse, maybe his mother, when he is hit with the same self-hate for being such a prude. He knows that his friends don’t think such things of him, but it’s something that can’t be helped from his part.

“Okay, fine.” He gave in. “But I do feel sorry for delaying our work even more.”

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Ben gave him an honest smile. “If you want to go home you can leave. You look like you need to rest.”

And what a wise statement that is, Eddie thinks. So, he agrees, and leaves shortly after helping Ben tidy up the space.

Only that he didn’t follow the way back home. A few roads away already, Eddie turned left instead of going straight ahead, and took himself once again to Richie’s house.

He rang the doorbell for the second time in the last 6 hours and once again, the door kept closed in front of him. Glancing around, he noticed that both Richie’s parents’ cars were missing from the driveway, so they were probably still at work, or doing God knows what. With a steady pace, he went around the side of the one store house, shaking his head at what he was about to do and how _‘not Eddie’_ this would be.

“I’m blaming you for this, Tozier.” He whispered under his breath as he took the final steps to stand near the window of Richie’s bedroom. The window was opened, but the dark green curtains were drawn close.

 

-

 

After watching Bev bike away and being left confused on his porch, Richie entered his house and headed for the bathroom. He made a sad attempt at wrapping his fingers and palm with bandages and closed himself in the bedroom afterwards. He hit the mattress and closed his eyes, hoping for sleep to get him. But he couldn't lay comfortably for nothing, so he stuck to the invitation previously made to Bev.

And that's how we end up here, sitting home alone in his room at 5 in the afternoon after a long day of pretending not to be affected by any of this. Door locked, window opened, the remains of the small weed plastic bag rolled over in paper and lit up, resting between his chapped lips.

His dark green curtains were swinging with the breeze and the room was soon filled with a characteristic smell. The bridge of his nose became oily from the warmness inside and the bulky glass frames were consistent on sliding and threatening to fall.   
   This, Richie thought, was exactly what he needed. It didn't take long for his mind to ease out on overthinking, for the pain in his body to fade into numbness. Tingles crept up his spine, finally feeling comfortable on the pillow mountain he put underneath his body.

The relaxation that hits him not only leaves Richie's mind free of worries (much well needed) but also leads his thoughts on another trail. He doesn't pay too much attention when his bandaged hand inches lower in his body, ignoring the aching that strikes from easing it under the two layers of fabric covering his crotch. Moving his fist hurts, and the fabric touch isn’t soft at all, but if anything, the sharp stinging only feeds on his heat, making his blood-shot eyes cloud with tears both from pain and lack of blinking.

And it was just like this, laying on his bed with a hand down his pants and the other holding a blunt, eyes closed, that Eddie Kaspbrak found him a few minutes later.

The only thing that brought Richie back to reality was the coughing fit that filled his room. His eyes shot open and he never moved so fast in his life, wiping his palm in a rush on the fabric of his jeans, which didn’t really do much.  
Richie's instincts spoke louder and before he noticed, he was scrambling out of bed so fast that he almost dropped the lit up rolled-cigar onto the carpeted floor.

 _"Shit."_  There, in front of him, stood Eddie, grasping the window frame and holding his arm to cover his mouth and nose, his school backpack still with him. The coughing fit ended shortly but Eddie’s eyes were squeezed shut.

"Are you  _decent?_ " The words were hard to understand, muffled underneath the weight on the arm covering his mouth but the flush that covered his cheeks was still noticeable, Richie himself feeling heat cripple up his neck.

"Y-yeah." His voice broke a little.

Eddie pinched the cane of his nose in annoyance and fluttered his eyes open. "Your room  _fucking_  stinks."

Richie forced Eddie out of the window again, placing the blunt between his lips so that he could climb out too.

"What the hell are you smoking?!” When they were on the outside of the house, Eddie started rambling and shooting words after words at him. “That's a stupid question, how did you get it? First you get drunk, and now high?" He asked, incredulous.

"Hi yourself." With an eye roll, Richie retorted back.

And as Eddie continued to hit him with questions and random facts about illicit substances, Richie planted a hand on his shoulder and lead the way around the outside wall to the back porch of the house with a view to the tree-lined backyard.

Eddie's voice pierced his ears with ' _Where were you today?_ ' or ‘ _Why’d you miss school?'_ as they made their way around the corner. Richie just firmed his grip on Eddie’s shoulder to walk faster and ignored the questions.

"You should really wash your hands before touching me, you know?"

At that, though, Richie laughed. But retrieved his right hand away.

They finally settled on the back porch, their legs hanging over the side to the grass. The afternoon sun was low and orange, just to their left. There were no cars visible from their position, the only company sound being the wind whispering through the trees.

"Seriously, Richie, how did you get it?"

"Get what?" He took a drag, then tapped the ashes onto a crack in the wood boards of the porch. Eddie glared at him with a furious expression. Richie rolled his eyes slightly and answered with a smirk. "Can't tell you."

"Well, fuck off _._ "

Richie chuckled at his response, bringing his bruised hand under his thigh, away from Eddie's sight.

"Why did you miss school?" Eddie insisted, but Richie dodged the question.

"Why are you here?" He asked back.

“To bring you the class notes that we took today.” He paused for seconds.

“We? Or just you?”

"What?" Eddie looked at him, stunned. “What does that have to do with anything?” He arched one eyebrow up.

As amusing as it was, Richie changed the subject and lifted the blunt trapped on his fingers between them. "Beverly got it for me. She always does."

Eddie stared at the slow burning paper with a frown on his face. "Always? Oh my god, am I surrounded by stoners?” He sighed deeply. “Don't distract me. Tell me what happened."

Richie sighed tiredly. "Fuck's sake Eddie, drop it okay?" His brought up his trembling hands to drag them on his face harshly, joint trapped between two fingers.

Now,  _that_ was something Eddie couldn't ignore. How did he not notice before? He grabbed Richie's wrist and brought it closer to himself, unrolling the bandages off of him and examining the damage underneath. Eddie’s eyes widened and his mouth hung opened.  
He felt Richie pulling back immediately but he tugged on his wrist lightly.

Eddie gulped down his surprise and lowered his revolted tone to a calming one. "I'm not going to question you about it, just let me check it.” Richie struggled a little with his options before giving up and relaxing his arm under Eddie's grip.

"It's fine really." Richie said sheepishly.

It's not fine, Eddie knows it. The number of colours splattered in his pale fingers were definitely caused by more than a simple punch. He was lost in the yellows and greens, purples and blues, he was tempted to trace the blotchy trails along the visible veins, so he did, gently enough so it wouldn't be another source of pain.

"When did it happen?" Eddie noticed that Richie was ready to complain about questions. "If it was today, it may be broken, if it was days ago, it's probably not because it's hasn't swollen." He explained carefully.

Richie smiled while Eddie was still studying his hand. "Mike asked the same thing.”

The new piece of information caught Eddie’s attention. “Mike? You were with him? He… he said he was busy today.” Confusion splattered across his features.

Cursing at himself, Richie relaxed his shoulders. “Yeah… We aren’t supposed to talk about it but Bev and us are taking care of the barn for the party. Speaking of which, you are definitely coming.”

Eddie was perplexed at this, and a bit angry. “The party? You’re in this too?” When Richie opened his mouth to answer, he cut him right off. “Never mind, I don’t care. Did you rather set up a party instead of going to school? Are you insane?”

Those words hurt to hear, but Richie was Richie, and he recovered just as fast. “Eddie. I didn’t miss school because of the party. I missed because I got hurt and I wasn’t feeling fucking fine alright?”

And Eddie had to believe it, because he could always hear it when Richie was being honest, and right now, he was. “I’m sorry… I was worried, I guess.” He looked down at his lap. “Are you better now?”

“All better, chap. But you should make it up for lashing out at me.” He grinned suggestively.

“If you ask for any sexual favours, I swear-”

“The party.” Richie cut him off. “You’ll come.”

Eddie didn’t have the courage to admit that he already agreed to go. “Really, that’s what’ll make you happy?”

“Well of course, I’m always happy when you’re with me, Eds.” And believe it or not, it was really hard for Eddie not to smile at that.

He settled on not answering and started rummaging through his backpack for the extra class notes he took during the day, passing them over to Richie.

“Sweet! Thanks so much, Eds.” Eddie considered correcting his grammar and the nickname, like countless times before. But what was the point anymore? He watched as Richie eagerly dived in the few sheets of paper, passing his eyes quickly over words and graphics.

Richie pressed the joint onto the wood of the porch, putting it out and tossing it to the grass below their feet to have a better grip at the papers. Eddie’s eyes fell on the burnt-out cigar near his feet and he kicked at it with his sneaker, curiosity spilling from his voice.

"How do you even inhale that?"

Richie, still flipping over the different sheets of paper, took a glance towards the ground where Eddie pointed with his shoe. He laughed lightly. "You should try it. It'd help you loosen up a little."

Eddie was about to protest against the ridiculous suggestion but once again his brain flashed ‘ _prude_!  _prude_!  _prude_!  _prude_! _'._  He was hit with a wave of self-consciousness, regretting ever thinking that this could be a good idea.

At his silence, Richie spoke, surprised. "Are you actually considering it?"

Eddie just adverted his gaze and shrugged his shoulders. “What’s so good about it anyway?” It was no secret that Eddie's asthma was in the past, but the years of unneeded inhalers had left some marks behind. His lungs were more sensible due to it, although that was getting better as the years passed, it was still risky to have direct contact with smoking.

"Now, there’s only one way to find out, ain’t it?” A smirk played in Richie’s lips.

He looked at Richie with uncertainty in his eyes. “Forget I asked.”

"Don’t worry, Spaghetti. One day we'll make you an addict." Richie winked at him, hoping to light up the mood and nerves. It didn't quite work.

“Don’t even joke about that.” Fear peaked slightly just from the chances of him becoming addicted. The silence that followed was nice and comfortable, just like it should be. But Eddie broke it after some time. “Do you need any help bandaging up better?” He pointed to Richie’s wrist.

And Richie couldn’t be more grateful when they spent half an hour on the bathroom, bent over a first aid kit, trying to wrap his hand as tightly as he could so he’d feel freer to move without hurting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST OF ALL  
> Please don't come at me if you don't like the whole 'musician Richie' thing. it's in the tags ever since the beggining. And I promise you I'm not making him a rockstar or something, don't give up on this yet, I'm just making Bev, Mike and Richie have fun with their hobbies, nothing of it is serious, just a bunch of teenagers trying new things  
> eventually I'll share a playlist when the time comes, it's pretty small  
> I know that there are some people who don't like musician Richie, but just trust me for a little longer
> 
> Next chapter will most likely be out later than expected, school is sucking up my time... bUt I swear I'm doing my best to write this


	5. N.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is coming so late, hope this makes up for the time it took me to update  
> I apologize in advance for any typos or weird sentences,  
> Enjoy!

**_Friday 14.05.1993_ **

Even though Richie knew this was the most likely outcome, he was still inconsolably disappointed when Friday came around and his hand was still looking like a dirty watercolour pallet. He was aware of how irrationally he was thinking, unless a miracle came around would the party be on tonight, and even if that happened, no one would come around. The flayers weren’t distributed around students, and the Losers had been warned that the date was postponed.

The week was pretty fucking boring despite the events that took place early on. The classes were agonizingly slow and there was a palpable tension hanging in the air of every classroom, for all the students were _oh-so-done_ with school and wanted more than ever for summer break to come around. Less than a month for it to be over, Richie thinks as the days pass, just a little longer.

The last school-projects of the year are suffocating the Losers with every kind of group work. Richie paired up with Stan and Bill, and all his afternoons were taken up for that purpose only, which in a way was good, because it kept his mind out of other things that clung to his thoughts more than they should. Realistically, they could have wrapped it up last week, but Richie is a master of distraction. He works just as hard as the members of his group, or even harder, if you counted the effort of focusing in the work itself other than every little detail around him that craved attention. He ends up tapping a pencil on a surface until either Bill or Stan tell him to quit it. Then he twists and twists his rings around the fingers of his good hand until that gets boring too and resumes the tapping, but with the metallic material instead which is even louder. In a matter of minutes Stan would say something along the lines of “Let’s end it here for today.” And that’s how you drag a group project up 'til the very deadline, eventually.

But not everything is boring, that’s for sure. Eddie's interactions with him are somewhat changing. Richie has a hard time pondering the option that it might mean something more than kindness between friends, and when he finally settles on believing it, another part of him has to bring rationality back on board to make him rethink things and realise that, after all, that’s all there is to it, kindness towards a hurtful event. A mere friendly gesture.  
And speaking of friends, Richie got quite overwhelmed with all the attention and questions thrown at him on Wednesday. He was grateful that they cared, but all he really wanted was to move on from once and for all, which was a hard task if all you had to do was take a look at yourself to be reminded of what happened. He gave quick short responses to all the questions first thing in the morning and smothered them with cheek kisses and sided hugs while announcing to the group “I know you all missed me, cuties. But someone has to do the hard work around here, ain’t that right?” And it was worth it when he noticed Eddie’s frown thrown at him while Richie hugged Ben and Stan under his arms.

“Oh my, do I see jealousy?” He spoke with a mocking voice. At first, Eddie was unaware he was the target of the question, but when everyone turned to look at him instead, the frown was masked with a layer of forced amusement.

“Sure thing, Tozier. I’m _sooo_ jealous that my friends’ shoulders are touching your sweaty armpits.” He offered an eye roll, lost in the middle of chuckles from the group. “Count me in next time.” Sarcasm pooling in his voice.

Trying to hide a bubbly smile behind a tentative smirk, Richie let go of Ben and Stan’s shoulders, throwing his hands in the air. “No need to ask twice, Spaghetti man!” he cut the circle down the middle, crowding Eddie’s space with long, bony arms that encircled him tight enough to lift the boy an inch off the ground. With a hand out of the equation, he applied all the strength on mostly one arm and immediately dropped Eddie down again, never letting go of the hug and hiding a smile in the crown of the boy’s head.

“Let me go, you dickhead!” But Eddie offered no resistance to the grip, and that spoke a lot to Richie.

Smiling to himself from the fond memories, Richie is brought back to the present by tripping over a stupid loose stone on the park pavement. He has been wandering around for an hour now, stalling the inevitable moment when he’ll have to go lock himself on the bedroom for the night. He insults the stone out of boredom and resumes his way home, deciding to stop on the closest convenience store for a crappy dinner.

  
Munching on a piece of bread while watching his house at the end of the road, Richie notices something different. His chewing slows down as he gets closer, stopping in his tracks completely when he reaches the overgrown front lawn.

“What the fuck?” He asks loudly, mouth still full. The question hung in the air as six heads turned to look at him, all of his friends were in front of his door, no longer talking among each other.  
He saw Beverly smile under the quick-darkening sky. “Am I hallucinating or do I have six losers in my front porch at -” he pretended to look into an invisible watch. “-unplanned hours?”

“That depends.” Beverly answered him while Richie marched his way over to them. “Did you hit your head on your way home?”

“I don’t believe so, no.” His mouth still full and a half-eaten bread on his hand. Eddie was quick to intervene.

“You shouldn’t talk until you swallow, idiot.”

“That’s funny, Kaspbrak. Your mother didn’t complain about my swallowing habits.” He finally finished eating the bite while a group groan was heard in response. “Seriously, though. What’s going on?”

“I wish I could answer that. I’m still trying to figure out why I was dragged from my house mid-dinner.” Richie turned to look at Stan, who was sitting on the steps in front of his house. Stan’s voice was harsh, like usual, but Richie saw the fondness underneath the fake scowl.

He stood quiet, eyes hovering over the six familiar stares on him. Richie almost counted the seconds spent watching a specific one, making sure it wasn’t any longer or shorter than whatever time spent on the others.

Strategies, he says to himself, good logic ninja skills.

“We’re here to have some quality time on a Friday night!” Beverly exclaimed with excitement. Richie almost rolls his eyes at Bev’s attempt on making him feel better, which is totally working, by the way.

“This is really dandy and all,” He then takes his time to look pointedly at his parent’s old cars in the driveway, taking a big bite out of his bread at the same time. “ but my folks wouldn’t really appreciate the invasion all of a sudden.” The last part of his sentence comes out muffled once again by the chewing.

Mike clasped a hand on Richie’s shoulders, making him almost drop the last piece of his dinner on the floor. “That, my friend, is why we’re going to the quarry instead.”

Richie offered him a quick smirk, his attention being dragged to Bev when she flashed him a scrunched up transparent zip lock bag inside the pocket of her jacket. “To have fun.” She winks at him.  
And what else does Richie need other than his friends and weed for company?

“Well, well chaps. What are we waiting for?” He asks while throwing the last bite in his mouth. Clapping his hands together to get the flour off of them, he motions for Eddie and Stan to get up from where they are sitting on the stairs. Everyone aims for their neglected bikes laying on the front lawn but before Richie could grab his, he notices the way Eddie trembles and sways when he gets up to walk to his bike.  
He trails closer to him, pushing all of his worries to a minimal amount.

“A lil’ dizzy, are we?” But as expected, all he gets in response is a scoff. He can see right through Eddie’s attempts at pretending that nothing happened and watches him straighten his body.

“M’just fine.” He bent down to pick up his bike and Richie stared longer than what he should. “And don’t spit crumbs all over me, it’s disgusting.”  
Richie doesn’t believe him for a second, but he shrugs it off playfully and gets on his bike, everyone already taking off ahead of them.

“If you say so.” He turns his head around to shoot Eddie a smirk while running his tongue over his bottom lip.

And if Eddie wasn’t able to play it off like his knees didn’t buckle when he got up, this time was just another failed attempt.

 

-

 

The air was slightly chilly against their exposed knees, but nothing too harsh to make them shiver. It was just enough to keep their skin cool to the touch, enough to make a cuddle seem like a good idea. Enough to make him think that leaving his jacket behind wasn’t a good one. Or maybe –

“ _Aww_ , c’mon, Marsh. You’ve done better.” He mocks while inhaling the smoke dancing around inside his mouth.  
Sitting on the far-left, the rocky ground digging on their asses, Beverly flipped him off.

“Well sorry if I had to get this shit in a rush and didn’t get your gourmet stuff, asshole.” He laughed right back at her, Ben, Mike and Stan between them. Bill sat on Bev’s left side while Eddie was to Richie’s right at the end of their sitting line on the edge of the quarry, legs hovering feet above the calm water below. The sky wasn’t dark yet, they had around two hours before it would get impossible to see a palm in front of their faces in the middle of the forest.

After taking two more puffs, he passes the joint over to his right, but Eddie withdraws into himself to get away from it. In a silent conversation, Richie lifts up one eyebrow as if to ask ‘Are you sure?’ to which Eddie responds by lifting up one palm and nodding. Richie sees the way Eddie’s eyes flicker momentarily to their friends, on the other side of him.

Realisation hits him, Eddie doesn’t need an audience.

“Are you passing the damn thing back tonight?” Stan pushed him out of his thoughts by asking. Richie couldn’t tell if he was actually annoyed this time.

“Being a bitch today, uh Stanley?” He took his precious time to take another drag, eyes locked with him. Shoving an elbow to Richie’s ribs, Stan roughly stole the blunt from his grip to pass it over to Mike, a disgusted frown forming from the smoke that hit him in the face. “No wonder you have a stick up your ass.”  Richie quietly murmurs.

  
There had been a couple of times where Stan joined the group for a smoke, but only in the ‘horrible parties’ he claims to be dragged into. But Richie knows better, Stan does enjoy these things, it only takes him a little bit longer to feel comfortable doing it while being watched.

When Mike turns to Ben, the latter quietly blushes and shakes his head no, Bev accepting the offer instead. This is just the way they roll.

 

-

 

Eddie doesn’t know what’s going on. All he’s sure of is that everyone is laughing, maybe crying. Maybe both.  
How much time passed is uncertain. The night feels way warmer now that he’s leaning on Richie out of fear of falling in the water. He notices that Ben is red in the cheeks and Stan has finally given into smoking some himself.  
Eddie vaguely remembers getting hit in the face with the white smoke, making him cough out of habit of doing just so.

Can you get high from being (extremely) close to people getting it on? Eddie doesn’t know, and he doesn’t feel like he’s high. He feels warm and giggly and comfortable.

His eyes drifted down to Richie's lap, observing the bandaged hand laying on top of his thigh, palm up to the sky. There was an urge, so strong, to grab it and wrap his fingers through Richie's.  
Slowly, Eddie inched his left hand closer, but suddenly his human pillow started turning and he almost hit an eye on a bony shoulder.

Lifting his head, Eddie stared at Richie, who was looking at him with shiny, wet eyes.

“What?” Eddie whispered with a lifted eyebrow.

“Just watch this.” With a wink, Richie turned around to face Stan. Eddie inched forward to observe what turned out to be the most shocking event between Losers.

Stan himself was talking with Mike, an active conversation filled with mocking voices and laughs. Eddie doesn’t remember seeing him this careless before, but there’s a chance he has just forgotten. He smiles at his friend’s happiness, only for it to be interrupted when Richie elbows Stan in the ribs, much like before, but with reversed roles. Stan turns around, way to happy for his smile to vanish, but slightly smaller. He opens his mouth to ask something, anything, but Richie cuts him to it, speaking loudly and putting a hand on Stan’s shoulder.

“Stan the Man! You’re so red, right there darling!” Richie brings his covered hand up, poking Stan in the cheek playfully. And now that Eddie’s noticing, he really is blushing. “You look like you need to cool off." Stan’s smile has died completely by now, annoyed for being interrupted on a nice moment.

“Is there a point to this conversation?” From his peripheral vision, Eddie knows that all the Losers became an audience for this ‘messing up with Stan’-Tozier moment, which is a mere repetition of every day.

However, what really shocks everyone is what follows next.

“Oh, s’just, you seem really _hooooot_ and bothered…” Richie drags the words in a weird way. “But fear not, my great bird-boy, I have the perfect solution for ya.” And just like that, he’s pushing Stan off the cliff, applying at the strength he can on Stan’s shoulder blades.

Stan screams, everyone’s jaws fall, and you know what else falls? Stan does. Eddie watches, horrified and leaning over the edge, as Stan’s body leaves the ground and grasps around for anything, _literally anything_ , to grab on to.

“ _Asshole! What the fuck?!?!”_ Those were the last coherent words Stan was able to say before he gave in to screams and shrieks while falling in the water down below.

Richie loses it.

He cries his eyes out from laughing so hard, grasping his sides and pointedly ignoring the Loser’s own screaming at him. Mike is dead-on freaking out, torn between killing Richie with his hands or jumping after Stan, who’s now in the water, feet below his friends, moving around freakily and trying his best to stay afloat and breathe harshly at the same time, the cold water making the task harder for him.

It honestly looks like the world is about to end. All of them are speechless but all of them are trying to beat Richie up with words. Bill is waving his arms around in protests, his stutter getting the best of him and making him breathless from being stuck on: _“Wh- Wha- Wha-” ‘s_ , trying so hard to blurt out a simple “ _What the fuck just happened!?!”_

Ben is shaking in horror, squinting down at the water to never loose Stan out of sight, at the same time as he is grabbing Mike’s torso, trying to keep him from getting up and kicking Richie down to the water too.

Eddie is straight up beating Richie with his own two hands, altering from punches at his side and grabbing Richie’s arm and shaking him out of his existence. _“Why the hell would you do that? What is wrong with you!”_ But the other boy is still grasping his mid-section, laughing on and on with no means to stop.

And Bev? Well… Bev starts laughing too. Because apparently, shoving a person down a cliff in the darkening sky while the other is totally defenceless, it’s fucking funny for her. So she laughs, and much like Richie, she starts to cry.

Ben stares at her with plain surprise, this is probably the most wicked thing that happened to him all month.  
Eddie stops physically assaulting Richie when her giggles reach him. Everyone just turns to stare at her, even Richie’s laughing died down to focus on her with fond amusement.

A faint, distant eco of Stan’s voice reaches the six at the top of the cliff.

“ _You’re insane! I’m going to murder you, Richie!”_ The sound of his friend’s voice brings Bill back to reality and he quickly scrambles to his feet and backs away from the edge.

“Where are you going?” Eddie asks, his voice apprehensive.

“We sh-should go meet S-Stan down th-th-there.” Bill’s stutter is winning the battle.

Mike gets up while shaking his head in disbelief, murmuring under his voice “I have no idea what’s going on.” to no one in particular. Richie is watching all of them, not a glint of regret in his blood. He waits for Beverly to stand on her feet, no longer laughing, to grab Ben’s hand and help him up.  
Eddie seems to snap out of his trance and quickly rushes to get up to follow the others, who are already making their way down the rocky trails in quick long steps. But before he’s able to do it, there’s a hand grasping his wrist weakly.

He looks down at Richie, big soft eyes staring right back at him. “Let them go.” Richie tells him. And surprisingly, even to himself, Eddie sits back down on his spot, thigh brushing against the other boy.  
He doesn’t feel calm anymore, he feels confused and shocked and overwhelmed.

“Why would you push Stan?” His eyebrows scrunch, and Richie almost can’t handle how cute he looks. “What if he got hurt? Now he’s all wet and it’s cold. He’s going to get sick, Richie, I can’t believe you did thi-”

“Cause I wanted to be alone with you.” Richie cuts Eddie’s rambling with a low voice. He looks kind of concerned, but Eddie doesn’t know why.

Eddie’s heart beats wildly against his ribs, nothing makes sense anymore. “You… wanted to be alone with me?” Richie nods, eyes always locked with him. “There were easier ways to do that, we could have just left for a bit or-”

“Do you trust me?” And if Eddie wasn’t altered right now, he would throw Richie to the water himself, for cutting him off again. Hesitantly, Eddie’s eyes drifted down to the spot where he could faintly see his friends’ shapes, near the water. “Stan is okay, I promise.” His attention is brought back to Richie, who was also eyeing the group but is now staring in his eyes again.  
At Eddie’s silence, Richie sighs and continues. “I want to try something, but only if you let me, Eds.”

“Will you throw me off this cliff, too?” He couldn’t help himself to say this, a small grin threatening to appear.

“We can manage that later, if you want.” Richie winks at him and watches playfully as shock crosses Eddie’s features for a moment, before he realises this is plainly Richie joking around and allows himself to relax again.

Somewhere away from them, Eddie can barely make out Stan’s voice: _‘Is he mental? He has to be fucking mental!’_ but something else gets his attention. Richie inches slightly closer to where Bev placed the tiny bag on the ground and takes out the second and last rolled up joint she brought along. Eddie gulps down his anxiety and embarrassment.

“ _Oh_.” It’s all he manages to say, his voice small, lost in the middle of the nature around them.

Looking away from the bag he’s holding, Richie lays his eyes on Eddie’s, watching him carefully from underneath his lashes.

“We don’t have to, you know?” Eddie nods back in response, gulping a second time and watching as Richie flips on his lighter.

He feels childish, and now there’s a chance to change that. There’s nothing to be nervous about, Richie would never make fun of him for struggling, and his mom would never know. But just the thought of Sonia makes his skin prickle with anxiety, it’s almost like she’s here, somehow, watching him, hidden away, studying the way he is acting and what he intends to do, him, Eddie, her baby, with another boy so close and drugs shared betwee-

Richie takes Eddie’s chin between his fingers, snapping him out of his thoughts by lifting his head up a little, just enough for their faces to inch closer. Eddie inhales sharply and lets himself study Richie’s features, which somehow calms him down a little.

Richie’s eyes are blotchy red and wet, like tears would be shed at any given moment. A nose slightly pink in colour, probably from the cool air of the night, though Eddie doubts that that could explain why Richie’s cheeks are just, if not more, darker in colour.

When things start to get way too intense to be normal, Eddie flick’s his eyes down to the blunt trapped between Richie’s fingers. He calmly adds “I want to… but I don’t know how.”

And that’s enough for Richie. Eddie tenses up slightly when Richie’s hand, still holding his chin, moves to accommodate his thumb to rest on top of Eddie’s lower lip. He doesn’t know what to do, so he looks impatiently and nervously, waiting for whatever he intends on doing. If he’s honest with himself, Eddie would take anything from him at this point, even being thrown in the water.

Before he knows it, Eddie lets his mouth slip open, the thumb pressing slightly harder on his lip. He gave up on rationality moments ago, what else was he supposed to do? He certainly wouldn’t scold Richie for whatever they’re doing, because he’s just as eager for it, but way more lost.

“I’m going to try something.” Eddie slightly jolts up with Richie’s voice breaking the silence. “Is that okay?” He simply nods back and stares, probably blushes too, as Richie brings the joint up to his own lips, face never inching away. Richie sucks up the air inside his mouth, lips wrapped around the rolled paper and hollowing cheeks.

Eddie is glad that he’s sitting down because his legs feel numb just from this and his fingers twitch where’re they’re gripping the end fabric of his khaki shorts.

When Richie pulls the blunt away, hand lying beside both their bodies, his lips are pressed closed and he comes nearer (Eddie didn’t think that was possible). The pressure on his bottom lip returns, Richie is making sure his mouth keeps open, and suddenly Eddie feels so vulnerable. Naturally, he tilts his head to the side when Richie does it in the opposite way, their mouths so close that Eddie can no longer think, he can only feel a heat taking over his entire body.

Should he close his eyes? He doesn’t know. Would that be weird? It’s wicked and painful to stare at Richie when he’s so close, making him cross-eyed momentarily. But Richie keeps them open, so Eddie does too.

His gaze flicker down for a moment when Richie’s lips twitch, and before Eddie grasps the reality of whatever this is, smoke is being blown right between Eddie’s lips.

 _‘Holy shit.’_ He thinks. _‘Holy shit this is happening, what do I do? What do I do?’_

Eddie’s knuckles turn white when he grabs at Richie’s forearm, somehow pulling it closer. The urge to cough is heavy on his throat, but he pushes it back. The next words Richie speaks are so soft that he barely acknowledges them over his internal rambling.

“You have to inhale.” He says between smoke. Eddie clumsily attempts to breathe through his mouth, allowing his throat to relax and completely forgetting the need to cough out a lung.

When Richie pulls back, but only slightly, Eddie is absolutely sure that even without the sunlight to shine on them, anyone would be able to see the blood rushing underneath his cheeks and neck. But at least he’s not alone, for Richie managed to darken his own blush out.

-

Both boys lost track of time after that, drifting in their own little bubble until the burning died down. Their lips had brushed against each other in unintentional ways, their asses were sore from the uncomfortable soil and Eddie ended up struggling with the smoke for a while, but Richie was patient, and Eddie was persistent. When five other voices started being audible, they drew apart in unnatural ways.

While Richie got his ears scolded by a drenched, shivering, and constantly-complaining-about-his-ruined-shoes Stan, Eddie took his time getting up on both feet and wondered briefly why his friends took so long to come back. Later, both Richie and him would find out it was the work of none other than Beverly Marsh.  
The rest of the night was spent in her house, vacant for the weekend. All their way to get there resulted in Stan getting sick from the resistance of the air while they biked and Richie trailing behind the poor boy while telling the group that they should have joined Stan to skinny-dip.

Later, Stan made sure to drop his still wet clothes on top of a napping Richie and hit him with the destroyed shoes wherever he managed to reach. This is just the way they roll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, I'd love to know your opinions!  
> Thank you so much for reading <3


	6. N.6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My gut tells me this is shitty.  
> But I still hope you enjoy  
> Thank you for reading!

  _ **Monday**_ ** _17.05.1993_**

 

Eddie isn't by any means a great scientist, but he does notice that the nights in town are always warmer than the nights at the quarry. He’s suspicious that it might have something to do with the water. Maybe he should ask Richie, he’s the brilliant one anyway.

“Hey, Richie?” Eddie found his voice weird in the middle of a big silence, raspy and unused.

“Hey yourself, Eds.” His companion offered with a smile.

“Do you think it’ll rain?”  
Both of them stared at the sky from the comfort of Eddie’s bed.

-

A while ago, by the time Richie burst through the bedroom’s window expecting to land on the carpet of Eddie’s floor, he was surprised with a softer approach. The bed had been moved right under the windowsill and he had accidentally stepped on the light comforter with his sneakers.  
Eddie had to contain his screams while watching Richie scrub the hell out of his comforter with the hem of his shirt.  
After that they were left staring, each of them standing on opposite sides of the bed, at a grey shoe print on the salmon soft fabric.

“I dunno, Eds. Looks kinda artsy, non?” He had said then.

“If you joke about it one more time, I’ll kill you.” But now the need had faded.

Still eyeing the stain but not really paying it attention, Richie wondered why the hell Eddie moved his bed. But he had to admit that now, an hour later, laying in it while staring at the sky was an excellent perk of it.

-

Sprawled out on the bed near Eddie, Richie paid attention to the sky again and noticed how cloudy it was. The stars were shy and the moonlight was dim under the heavy looking clouds. Somehow, the weather remained warm, which resulted in a tropical sort of environment.

“Looks like it might, but it’s weird. It’s almost summer.” He offers.

“Well, Derry isn’t known to have regular weather.”

Richie wanted to tease the topic of their conversation.  
“When did we turn into old ladies who only talk about these things?” He watched as Eddie turned sideways in his laying position, then Richie resumed talking.  
“Are you gonna tell me about your grandchildren?” Dry chuckles filled the air around them, but Eddie remained quiet, staring intensely at him. So, not in a funny mood. _Gotcha, Eds._

Eddie is pretty much losing his mind, along with his sleep. But those aren’t news. Richie and him simply don’t talk about…what happen. Or what they each want to happen. But that’s probably because neither of them knows what they want.  
Eddie is reluctant. Overthinks what to say and what to do. What to show, what to hide. He focuses so much on his own dilemma, that he fails to see that Richie is stuck on a similar position.

And Richie? He doesn’t like to read between the lines, but he finds himself doing it more often than not. He hates it, because he doesn’t want to have to scrape the bottom of this to find things that might not be real, but that he simply wishes they were. Feeling a little bit like a fool, he searches too much in Eddie’s movements to notice when his own start slipping out of control. Just like now, where he’s completely submerged in Eddie’s features. Shamelessly scanning up and down, pupils dilated. But maybe that’s from the lack of lighting.

And all of this goes subtly unnoticed by Eddie, who breaks the silence.

 “I don’t know what you expect me to tell you at all.”  To both of their surprises, his voice breaks at the end, and his eyelids flutter for a second.

Eddie is betrayed by his own body when a few unshed tears fog up his vision. He blinks them away quickly, rubbing a fist on his eyelids for the effect of a simple itch. When he brings his hand to rest between the two bodies, Richie is looking at him with an unreadable expression.  
His lips are parted, his eyes halfway closed, and suddenly Eddie feels more invisible than he ever has. All it took was the next thing Richie said.

“Why don’t you ever talk about yourself?” There’s a dead silence that follows next, the only evidence that Eddie heard Richie, is the shock passing through his features.

Eddie is so tired…

With honest curiosity, he clears his throat to ask “What do you mean? I talk about myself plenty.”

“Do you?”

And once again, he stays quiet. Because what else should he do? He doesn’t know what to answer.

“You know you can, right?” Richie insists, and Eddie breaks out of his surprise.

“I know.” He feels overwhelmed with emotions. More than ever before, Eddie wants to say a lot of things, he just can’t exactly place what they’d be.  “I just…” Getting life of their own, both his hands fidget with each other playfully, sometimes grasping a piece of fabric from Richie’s shirt in the process.

Eyeing the sight in front of him, Richie tries to do what he does best: light up the mood. “That’s my number one act, Eds. Have a little originality.”

For a brief moment, Eddie sees his best friend coming back. It’s possible that he’s been here forever, but Eddie feels a little blinded by the actions taking place between them lately. But for now, the awkwardness seems to dissipate.  
That damned night brought nothing but concerns, and a whole lot of coughing fits that involuntarily appeared whenever Eddie thought back to it. He couldn’t calm his nervous system enough with _‘this is all in the past so that’s where it belongs’_ directed at his respiratory issues. Speaking of it, he had a hole in the back of his skull from all the staring his mom threw at him. He could practically feel it whenever he would clear his throat to get rid of an inexistent itch.

Another problem involved with that night were Richie’s lips. If that was even considered a problem.  
For Eddie, in a way, they were. Because they were perfect. Perfectly shaped, perfectly chapped, perfectly blowing smoke in his eagerly waiting mouth. ‘ _Jesus fuck.’_ Eddie thinks, then he resumes to scan his list.  
Perfectly pink and pump, perfectly touching Eddie’s for brief moments, perfectly and permanently engraved in his memory.  
Generally speaking, Richie’s lips were perfectly ruining Eddie’s life.

Richie pulls his arms up and opens space for Eddie to rest against him. There’s a subtle pink behind the pale cheekbones, and Eddie thinks it’s cute. He comes back to reality and remembers what he’s supposed to do. Get closer, and he really, really wants to do just so.

Propping his body up by his right elbow, Eddie gets closer until his hips get in contact with Richie’s, and at the feeling of a hipbone against his lower stomach, Eddie freezes in his movements. He should back up a little. He should back up _now_.  
They used to cuddle a lot when they were younger… but now? Now this can get awkward pretty fast.

A larger hand comes in contact with Eddie’s shoulder blade, applying a soft pressure that he allows to pull him down until his ear is resting against Richie’s collar bone. It’s not comfortable, but Eddie doesn’t dare to move a lot more, just enough to curl a little against Richie’s side and slide both hands between the two bodies.  
He can’t quite feel Richie’s heartbeat from where his head sits, he can only hope that Richie doesn’t feel his.  
But everything is fine, Eddie has to remind himself.

This is okay, this isn’t new. This used to home for them.  
Where’s home now?  
Why does it feel so far?  
Why-

“Why don’t you start by telling me what leaves you weak in the knees?”

 “What?” Eddie is taken aback by the sudden question, but he doesn’t miss the way Richie’s voice sounds strangled.

Breathing in deeply, and still not over the fact that they’re _this_ close after so long, Richie clears his throat. “Don’t act like you don’t know…” Struggling a little, he lifts the arm that’s beneath Eddie’s head and grazes his fingers on the side of the boy’s neck, stealing a few giggles from him, and a quiet:  
_‘stop that! It tickles…’  
_ Richie quits the movements but keeps the touch there. “I’ve seen you all wiggly and shaky sometimes, and Ben mentioned something about that, too.”

“You’re all fake, seriously.”

“Well, it’s not like you try to hide it.”

Eddie exhales soundly, not really sure how to keep this topic flowing. Richie, however, keeps talking for both of them. “Are you still that weak for Johnny Depp?”

Turning crimson, Eddie blurts out an embarrassed: “ _Shut up!_ That was years ago!” before he remembers they’re supposed to be quiet and lowers his voice mid-sentence.

Richie makes fun of him, shaking Eddie’s head with breathy laughs while his chest bounces crazily.

“ _Okay, okay.”_ He manages to say through his quickly dying chuckles. “So, it’s no celebrity messing with that head of yours.”

Eddie nods, cheek glued to the fabric of Richie’s shirt. “I don’t know what it is.”

“But you’re my one and only doctor K.” Eddie could feel the words being said to his own hair, feeling the warm of Richie’s breath on the crown of his head.

Eddie isn’t dumb. He has his own suspicions. Always controlling his body and health, he has certainly learnt what lack of sleep, overstress and anxiety combined can do to a person. Eddie assumes, quite surely, that he this is the case, and he owns his collective knowledge to all the time spent in medical environments. If he were still taking fake sugar pills, he’s sure he’d look like a zombie, or like Richie on energetic drinks during final’s season.

“That’s the point. The doctor here is positive that I’m not sick or anything.” Distracted with their conversation, Eddie finally allows his head and neck to relax. He eyes the pocket on the other side of Richie’s shirt and notices that there’s something inside of it. There’s a faint outline of the old metal lighter he’s seen Richie carry around many times.

Richie didn’t sound very convinced, but he knew Eddie didn’t want to be pressured about something like this, probably trying to stay away from doctors and his mom as much as possible. Who could blame him?

“Okay..” He settled on that. “What else, Eddie my love, should you talk about with old, wise Tozier?”

“I’m older than you, asshat.” The nickname was ineffective by this point, practically nothing from so much use. “My favourite colour is green.” Eddie said the first thing that came to his mind as a random fact.

Lifting an eyebrow curiously, although both their faces were hidden from each other, Richie asked, amused. “Since when? I thought it was red.”

“Why did you assume it was red?” Richie watched as Eddie got up on his elbow once again, staring down at him from his position. He probably had a double chin from Eddie’s point of view, so he accentuated it by squeezing his jaw against his chest in order to stare at him in a funny way.

“Oh, _silly me!_ ” Eddie furrowed his eyebrows at Richie’s playful tone. “Must be those shorts I love seeing you in.”  
And if the cheeky smirk wasn’t provocative enough, Richie decided to poke Eddie’s ass cheek, covered by pyjamas.

Feeling trapped, Eddie’s instincts and reflexes spoke first and he tried to wiggle away from the touch, resulting in him trusting his hips forwards. _Right against Richie._  
The unexpected friction was welcomed by his body, betraying Eddie for the second time that night.

With the jolted impact, Richie felt his body jerk slightly and he let out a low whimper that was awkward enough to surpass Eddie on ‘embarrassing things being done tonight’s list.  
Richie threw his head back against the pillow in a silent cry of exasperation, being even more submerged with Eddie’s scent than before, or maybe he was just noticing it now. Either way, it wasn’t helping.  
He didn’t dare to look down, but he kept a hand around Eddie’s torso, the boy was frozen on his side and unfortunately (not really) with his crotch still pressed on Richie’s side.

If Eddie had talked out loud, he would have heard his own voice more strained than ever. Instead, all he managed to do was think:

_‘Well, this went wrong really quickly.’_

But there was another part of Eddie that was begging him to throw ethics and morality, or whatever it was that his mother never shuts up about regarding intimacy, away. And he was tempted, deeply tempted, to follow that inner voice that kept encouraging him to find out other ways he could get reactions out of Richie.

 _Richie,_ who was visibly tense and physically warm where their bodies were touching.  
_Richie,_ who was vulnerable and inviting and _still_ holding on to Eddie.  
_Richie,_ who had piercing half lidded eyes that tore a soul down the middle, and a tongue running over his own lips, maybe a twitching hand wishing to touch more of Eddie’s body.

And then there was Eddie, who was willing to put his fears behind to do things he only ever dreamt of doing.

Maybe this didn’t make any sense, maybe they were not thinking.  
Many maybes could be inserted here. But perhaps they both wanted whatever this was, just like many other moments. And, most likely, they should talk about this, and they probably won’t.

All of this enters Eddie’s mind for a second and leaves right the next one, when he gulps down a nervous knot and ever so slowly lifts up his left leg, sliding it over Richie’s body to trap him under it.  
What Eddie didn’t expect, but he wasn’t complaining, was when Richie reacted immediately by bringing his other hand (way more healed) to Eddie’s leg and hiking it up higher, keeping him stable.  
The movement filled the room with subtle fabric-against-fabric sounds while the two boys stared at each other in the poor lighting, still enough to reveal both of their crimson appearances. Quietness that revealed, transparently, how their breaths had jagged in a matter of seconds.

 Faces way too close, and somehow not close enough.

Suddenly Eddie abandons Richie’s eyes to something that catches his attention. Never moving his head, simply adverting his eyes upwards, he stares at the droplets of rain staining his window. There’s a small smile forming in his lips when Richie, once again, tips his head back to take a look outside as well.  
Richie chuckles, still breathless, and tries to balance out the weirdness of their interaction by bringing a joke to the equation.

“Your meteorological skills are impressive.” The usual need to laugh is present, but there’s nothing funny about this. Richie entered a panic mode feeling eager for something that seems impossible to get.

“First, there were clouds on the sky. Second, that’s a pretty big word.” No longer looking at the rain, Eddie trails his gaze back to Richie, more precisely to his neck, since he’s still tilted backwards to look outside. He has a nice neck, Eddie thinks. What isn’t nice about him?

There’s actually a long list on that, but for now, Eddie stares on Richie’s Adam’s apple with interest.

“I have a pretty big mouth.” That what he says. And Eddie can pretend to have his shit together, but when Richie looks back at him, he doesn’t even pretend that he isn’t fixated on that pulse point and pale skin. He simply leans in, shamelessly nestles his nose in there and inhales sharply, because he fucking wants to.

Like Richie had expected it to happen, he opens up his neck for better access as soon as Eddie leans in. But there, unmoving lips pressed to Richie’s skin, Eddie can no longer move, way too embarrassed to keep going. He grunts, almost inaudibly, in a small protest for whatever is holding him back. Sensing this, Richie decides to take one step himself. The hand currently holding Eddie’s thigh inches up, resting just below the crease of his cloth covered ass.

He waits for any signs of discomfort that would end all of … _this_ in a matter of seconds, but Eddie responds by pressing his body down closer. All of it. His crotch, in a timid grinding motion, his hand, who grasps tightly at the fabric of Richie’s shirt, and face, hiding himself from the world to press his lips on that sweet spot he so much craved.

A hand calmly makes its way towards the hem of Eddie’s pyjama shirt, while the other keeps a certain pressure and twitch against the spot that marks the start of his thigh, right in the crease. For a moment, Richie thinks Eddie’s tongue marked its presence on his neck, so he decided to give into the need to squeeze Eddie’s butt cheek in response.  
Eddie whimpers shakily, the sound is like a blessing to Richie’s ears, and his left hand finally comes in contact with the bare skin of Eddie’s hip.

The room is filled with heavy breaths as soon as Eddie adds pressure on Richie’s lap with his leg, providing him some sort of relief that soon starts to feel not enough. Eddie’s left foot nestles between Richie’s knees, keeping his long legs slightly parted and an exposed feeling. But if Richie ever has to feel helpless in his life, he’s glad it’s Eddie that leaves him that way.

Feeling adventurous, Richie curls his arm around Eddie’s frame a bit more. This time, moving under the shirt, he stretches to reach the top of Eddie’s pants but never daring to go further than that. Richie opens up his palm, covering as much skin as possible, and presses down on the faint V line of Eddie’s pelvis. He instantly feels Eddie thrust his hips again, as well as soft bites delivered to his neck.  
Richie can’t even believe this is happening, that Eddie is actually… _holy shit._

_‘Eddie is dry humping me. Eddie is hard, and he’s dry humping me.’_

The blissful moment ends abruptly when a soft metallic _clunck_ echoes between the four walls.  
Eddie’s head snaps up from the creak of Richie’s neck and his whole-body stiffs. The first thing that enters Eddie’s brain is the image of his mother staring at him from the bedroom door. Suddenly he’s small, no longer brave but more like a childish, weak version of himself.  
Burying his front teeth on his bottom lip, Eddie clenches his eyes shut at the feeling of a panic attack rising.

At the sound, Richie jumped slightly and looked around, still a little out of it. But when he notices Eddie’s reaction, his hopes to keep the moment going fall apart.  
He retrieves the touch from underneath Eddie’s clothes and pushes himself into a half sitting position, never shoving Eddie’s leg away.

“ _It’s okay_ , _Eds…_ We’re alone.” The whispers get lost in the dark. Outside, the rain keeps hitting the window, leaving both of them with a background noise.

Eddie exhales slowly and allows his muscles to relax a tiny bit while he turns his head to look at the door for confirmation. When he turns back around, Richie is looking at him, inviting and all good intentions.

“She’s not here.” He reassures, and Eddie believes him, answering with a nod and shaky breath.

On jiggly legs, due to better reasons this time, Eddie calmly gets on his feet and waits for Richie to do the same. But when he stays there, watching him with doe eyes, Eddie punches him in the ribs and pushes until Richie is dangerously close to falling off the bed.

“Why, Eds? _Why?”_ He asks dramatically while finally giving up and standing on his socked feet on the other side of the bed, like they were an hour ago. Richie licks his lips while watching Eddie trying to adjust his pyjama pants discreetly and failing miserably, but he takes pity on him so he doesn’t mention it.

“We have to get under the covers, idiot.” Eddie offers plainly and starts to pull of the bed covers, the shoeprint sill embedded on it.

“You are in no position to insult me, sir.” Not after you’ve done _that._ Richie thinks. He turns around to reach the backpack he brought and starts changing into more comfortable clothes, because sleeping in jeans, specially with blue balls, is not something he needs right now.

 _“Whatever.”_ Getting in bed, Eddie looks everywhere but at Richie’s figure, trying instead to calm his wild heartbeat. On his head, he tries to remember if he locked the door. Deep down he knows he did.  
When Richie finally gets under the covers with him, Eddie wonders how much he must have embarrassed himself for this. But truth is, Richie didn’t seem to be against it. Or at least he hopes so.

“To be continued?”

And there’s the proof Eddie needed. He offers what must be the fifth aggressive response today and starts slapping Richie wherever he can between the bed sheets. “ _Stop, stop, stop._ ”

Richie answers him by laughing quietly and struggling to grab Eddie’s wrists. When he manages to do so, he wraps him in a warm hug, weirdly executed from them being on their sides. But it works for them, and that’s all Eddie needs to calm down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please notice how things ended on a nice note  
> how rare is that?  
> haha


	7. N.7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in the tags it says pennywise happened  
> let's just pretend Henry is alive, folks.  
> Also, didn't have time to edit this more than 3 times, so there might be typos, sorry in advance  
> This took me longer ): Hope you forgive me  
> That's all! Enjoy it and thank you very much for all the lovely comments and support I get for this work <3

**__ **

**_  
_ **

**_Tuesday_ ** **_18.05.1993_ **

 

_“I'm gonna fuckin get ya, four-eyes!”_

That’s the third time Henry spats those same exact words behind their backs, Eddie thinks to himself as he hears Richie throwing some lost response in shallow breaths.

 _“How’s that working-_ **fuck!** _How’s that working for you, dude?”_

To feel their sweaty hands intertwined, tight enough to stop blood circulation, would have been great if they were not trying to stop Henry Bowers from catching them and start throwing punches.  
They had been running for a bit now, and false respiratory complications aside, Richie knew that Eddie could go for longer than him, so he really hoped their chaser would have given up by the time he fell in utter exhaustion.

Running with a backpack is the weirdest fucking thing to do, Richie notices. And if he wasn't about to puke out a lung at the moment, he would have joked around, telling Eddie how ridiculous they must look. Like the backpack was doing them from behind or something.

 _Nah,_  he scratches off that option.  _That's way too bad, even for me._

So, he settles on running, because that's all he can do at the moment. Not even breathing. No, he doesn't think he can breathe, automatic mode at its best.

His clammy hand grasps tighter onto Eddie's to pull him forward along. Since his legs are smaller, it leaves him behind some steps, long enough to keep their arms stretched between them.  
Just as Richie was about to allow his body to pass out, a frustrated grunt was heard from behind them. A small reminder that they were still being chased.

See, things were going pretty regular today, at least for Eddie. As for Richie… well, let’s just say he had a few plans.

This morning, when they woke up to the sound of Eddie’s alarm an hour earlier than normal so as to avoid Sonia discovering the bedroom’s door locked, Eddie expected everything to be worse. And by worse he means more awkward. More tense between them than what it had been the day after the quarry, more distant from each other in opposition from last night’s events.  
But Richie woke up and threw his body on top of Eddie’s, and he had to turn on his ‘ _totally_ annoyed mode’ in order to keep things on the regular track.

After pushing Richie out of bed and onto the floor, he waited until the (apparently energetic in the morning) boy got dressed and left through the window. Then, in the room all by himself, Eddie unlocked the door carefully, attempting to keep the noise down, and got dressed and ready for school.

His mother, unsuspicious as ever, sat with him in the kitchen table to watch him eat breakfast and complain about life in general. Luckily, she didn’t come in time to see Eddie shove two plastic-wrapped peanut butter sandwiches on the outer pocket of his school bag.

When asked why he was leaving earlier than usual, Eddie answered with a simple

“I want to talk to the teacher about my work project before class starts.”

And off he went, mocking her naivety.

Richie was sitting on the sidewalk some houses away, just enough to be hidden from the Kaspbrak’s living room window. When Eddie approached him, bike by his side, he tossed the two sandwiches to his face, startling him out of his existence when one collided with his ear.

“Ouch, Eds! You sure know how to woo a guy.” Eddie watched as thankfulness made its way on Richie’s eyes as he grabbed the two sandwiches, now on his lap, and stuffed one in the pocket of his jacket.

Their ride to school was comfortingly quiet, the town was still waking up. They could see stores opening up, adults leaving their houses and entering their cars. There were no kids around, yet. And there wouldn’t be many until half an hour later, when they’d start their path to school. The morning air was vaguely chill, the rain from last night gave the asphalt a glossy touch and the sidewalks were slippery, along with the small patches of dirt and front backyards that looked alive and muddy.

Derry. What else could they say about a town that is heavily rained upon in the beginning of summer. Just Derry.

It wasn’t until they were stuck going around the school building to pass the 30 minutes left until their friends would arrive, that the awkwardness seemed to settle.

Eddie could easily say he was feeling terrified of what he allowed his body to do some hours prior. Did it happen? He couldn’t wrap is head around the reality of it, couldn’t distinguish if it was a dream or not. He wished it was.   
Did it really happen? He thinks again.

Did I make things harder for us?  
If he weren’t so preoccupied, he would have laughed out loud for the innuendo of his question.

 _Oh God._ He thinks. _Fuck, no. This is so wrong on so many levels._   _There’s definitely nothing funny about the double meanings of that._

Embarrassed was an understatement for how he felt. Eddie was ready to turn around right now and leave Richie walking alone. He would run in any other direction, as long as it didn’t have Richie standing at the end of those.

Wrong paths they would have been.

On the other hand, Richie was  _sure_  it had been a dream.  _Pffff, yeah sure. Eddie gets a boner rutting against me?_

_Yowza! That’s the funniest joke I’ve heard since diapers._

But that didn’t explain why his cheeks felt warm, or why Eddie’s looked pink. That didn’t explain why Richie could feel his skin prickle where he can faintly remake the images of being in touch with another body.

_Funny!_

 

-

 

By the time their whole group was present by the bike rack, Beverly got the pleasure to announce, as she opened the zipper of her bag and shoved a hand inside it, that their party was still on. And then, as if it was the world’s most natural gesture, she took out a thick stack of purple … paper sheets?

“What’s that?” Ben had asked while leaning over Bev’s figure to read the words on the top paper.

Overexcited, Richie removed the whole stack from Bev’s hands and shook his arms in the middle of the group while grasping the papers. “ _These?_  There are flyers, baby!”    
Bev’s aunt works in a stationary store, it was easy for her to print a hundred of them while working one of her single shifts.

Stan rolled his eyes and turned around to start walking towards the building, everyone subconsciously started following along.

“Flyers? Are you serious right now?” Eddie asked no one in particular. Bill, who was by his side, agreed to his surprised tone.

“Isn’t that a buh-bit ex-exss-” He struggled with the word, frustrated momentarily while the group kept walking but waiting for him to succeed. “- _Excessive...?”_ He spoke carefully.

“No sir, no sir!” Richie took one of the flyers from his arms and stuck it in Bill’s face. Eddie peered over to see it for himself, too.

It was a fairly small piece of purple paper, with big blocky yellow letters announcing “PARTY”. Creative. Above that was some information like the date, which Eddie noticed was next Friday, the address to Mike’s barn, and, surrounded by musical notes’ doodles standing in a stupidly flashy neon font:

**“LIVE MUSIC!”**

“ _Live music?”_  Bill must have been reading the same part along with Eddie, because they both asked the same thing together, stuttering tossed aside.

Eddie and Bill shared a glance, then looked straight to the party organizers. Eddie mocked them. “Who’d you get to play there? Some shitty group with low percussion skills?”

Richie flashes him a grin. “That’s up to you to find out ain’t it?”

With a scoff, Eddie tore his eyes away to instead look around the school halls as if they were any interesting. “Yeah, right.”

“You promised!” Richie shrieked, surprised.

“I promised my ass, Richie!” He retorted back.

“I’ll take that, too, then.”

Bev rolled her eyes and bumped Richie’s elbow, he smiled sheepishly at her.

Trying to ignore the burning sensation on most of his skin, Eddie tore the flyer from Bill’s grip to read it over better while the others started handing out the rest of them throughout students.

That’s when he read it.

  ** _everyone invited except Mullet Bowers and Greta-st Face Disaster_**

Oh man.

 

And here they are, unwillingly skipping last period because it took Henry that long to understand why he was being laughed at in class. Nonetheless, he found out. Eddie had been walking to his chemistry lab along with Ben and Richie when the bull came out of nowhere, fumbling with rage (was it even necessary?).   
By the time Richie spotted Henry at the end of the hall, he had grabbed Eddie’s hand and started off in the opposite direction.

Ben stood there, confused, and Eddie stumbled to try to keep up. He fell as soon as Richie began running, which took him three seconds, but their hands had been clasped together which meant Richie was pushed towards the floor, too.

That’s when Henry screams reached them.  _(seriously is it really necessary?)_ But Eddie’s thoughts were pushed out of his head when both of them stumbled to their feet, fingers still intertwined, and resumed properly running this time, still with a long advantage over the older bully.

Here they are now, long left school ground. Bowers was still after them and Eddie was trying to overlook past his burning muscles to think  _‘Why did you drag me along, Richie?’_  
But maybe Eddie should be asking himself why  _he_  had let Richie drag him in the first place.

“ _Holy fuck…”_ Richie’s lungs were on fire. “No way-  _ugh_! I need to-”

Eddie kept throwing glances behind his back, snapping his neck in weird angles. He couldn’t find any trace of Henry. He was about to warn Richie about it when suddenly he collided into the latter’s backpack.  
With a surprised grunt and an aching nose, Eddie let go of Richie’s hand and clasped both of his on his face.  _You could have warned me, dickhead!_  Eddie thought, but he was too busy panting to find enough oxygen to speak at the moment. He turned around once again just to make sure they were free of danger and lowered one of his hands to grab his backpack straps, an old habit he has.

They stared at each other in the middle of the street. Panting and harsh breathing. Aching legs and nose. They laughed.  
They laughed so much it started to hurt. They were slowly becoming two bundles of pain. Maybe they could merge together and become a single one.  
That sounded nice.

There wasn’t a coherent conversation after they stood there like panting idiots. Something along the lines of:

“Should we…?” Richie heaved through his words while pointing a thumb in the direction of which they had come. Should we go back to school? That’s what he meant to ask.

“No.” Eddie said. “Should we…?” He panted heavily, pointing to the other end of the road. Should we go home?

Richie nodded and planted both hands on his knees, curving his body so that he could bend his back in different angles. Man, running with a backpack is harder than it should be.   
He straightened himself out again. “Yours or-”

“Mine.” Eddie answered.

It was a silent agreement that they were meant to spend the rest of the day together.

They walked together, there wasn’t one moment that Eddie worried about his lungs. Running felt great, freeing, perhaps. So, when they were approaching the street where his house stood, he did something un-Eddie like.  
He shoved Richie with his elbow, he might have used more strength than needed. He blamed the adrenaline still running through him. Funny, the adrenaline runs too.   
With Richie’s suspicious attention on him, Eddie grinned, but didn’t bother to look in his direction. “I’ll race you to the front door.” And then proceeded to take off, the burning in his legs returning, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

He heard Richie complain behind him, but Eddie knew he had started running too by the sounds of his sneakers hitting the ground.

Eddie rounded the fence of the house next to his and crossed the grass that his mother called “front yard”.   
His mother.  
Eddie’s throat tightened and he stopped abruptly. For what felt like the twentieth time today, Richie and Eddie collapsed against each other. Richie tried to stop, he did, but he was almost catching up to Eddie, and the grass was still wet, still muddy. His feet slipped against Eddie’s and he fell on his butt into the cold surface, something inside the backpack pressed into his ribs.

“ _Fuck_ , Eddie!” He groaned on, hands digging into the dirt. “What the hell was that for?”

But Eddie didn’t turn around, he just gaped at the front door and whispered. “My mom, Richie. I can’t be home before school ends.” With that, he faced the boy on the ground, his worried frown deepened at the sight. “Can’t you even stay on your feet for one minute? You’re all dirty!” His whispers were staged, just in case Sonia was in ear-range.

Frustrated, and helplessly mad (although he didn’t want to be) Richie laughed ironically, way too loud for Eddie’s liking. “Excuse me, will you? You stopped out of fucking nowhere, Eds!” He scrambled to his feet, already feeling his pants glued to his legs where the wetness installed itself.

“Lower your voice-”

“Your mom’s not home.” He shrugged while adjusting his clothes into place. Eddie stared with furrowed eyebrows.

“And how do you know that?”

“Her car’s missing.”

Gaping slightly, Eddie snapped his neck to stare at the spot where his mother parks the car, it wasn’t, in fact, there.

Richie passed through Eddie while flicking his forehead. “Dummie. Lend me your shower.” Eddie followed him with his eyes, noticing pieces of grass stuck to Richie’s hair, and his soaked clothes, the backpack too.

“Don’t you dare step a foot in my house!”

-

After the bathroom door closed, Eddie allowed himself to sit on his bed and capture every sound that made its way to him. Richie's barefoot steps on the tiles, the ruffling of clothes against skin, the squeaks that his faucet does every time someone turns it on, the water hitting the bottom of the tub.  
His mind goes back in time, years ago when both of them had enough innocence (yes, even Richie) to take showers together.

11-year olds would be playing outside, usually with Stan and Bill, and they'd get dirty. Well, Eddie couldn't, or his mother would be upset. She always sounded angry and sad after Eddie came home with stains and messy hair. Eddie didn't want to make her feel that way so, most times, he came home sweaty.

One time, Richie and him went over to his place and played on the streets until his parents allowed. Back when they cared.   
Then they had stumbled inside in a fit of giggles, knees and hands dirty, clothes slightly smudged in greys and browns. Eddie didn't care about it.   
Richie had asked his mother if Eddie could bath in his house and stay for dinner. Maggie had smiled at the boys and ush them upstairs.

Maybe she didn't realize that Richie would be joining the said shower, Eddie thinks so, years later.

But the boys didn't think too much at the time, they just struggled out of their clothes in chuckles and pushes and got under the water.  
If memory doesn't fail him, Richie had joked about 'Eddie's pickle', saying it was smaller, but that it was okay because Eddie was small all over and Richie liked him like that.

Remembering this now, while Richie was in next room showering, made Eddie's cheeks crimson and his heart stammer.

He recalls, among those years of innocence, that both of them had asked the same to Sonia one time. Eddie doesn't know if he ever saw his mom freak out like that ever before. At the moment, neither of them could grasp her reasons, they just stood there, mouths gaping like fishes and ears red from being scowled, while she threatened to call Richie's parents.   
Now things were different. He supposed that if he went to join Richie right now, something ought to go wrong, even if he recognised a subtle wish to do just so.  
But then there’s an image on his head of all those solo times Eddie has in his shower, the exact same place where Richie is now, and he groans. Rubbing his face to shake away those images, he feels embarrassed. What is it about Richie that everything involving him leaves Eddie embarrassing himself?

To use his time better, Eddie tidied up the room and searched for the clothes Richie sometimes forgets. He ended up finding some in the back of his closet. He placed them neatly on top of his bed, the footprint was still there.

The kitchen sink was a mess of pilled up dishes from breakfast and his mother’s lunch, so he settled on taking care of that and arranging something for both of them to eat.   
Mid way from getting two glasses of orange juice on the table, Richie burst through the kitchen entry, already dressed, with a towel on his hand. Eddie didn’t hear him coming down the stairs, so when Richie asked: “Hey, where’d you want me to leave this?” - he almost spilled one glass on the floor, but managed to salvage it.

Before Eddie could say anything at all, he heard a voice that wasn’t Richie’s.

_“I knew it.”_

He faintly recognized his mother’s way of spatting out words in disapproval. Not even settling the glasses down, he turned to lock eyes with Richie, who was torn between glaring at Eddie with huge eyes, and looking at Sonia, who was out of Eddie’s view but certainly not out of his.  
The way Richie’s throat moved while he dry swallowed didn’t went unnoticed.

“ _Mrs. Kaspbrak!”_  He exclaimed, faking amusement. “Long time no see!”

Eddie’s heartbeat was everywhere, in his hands holding the cups for dear life, in his ears, in the back of his head and the sides of his neck.

Almost like a barrier between Eddie and his own mother, stood Richie. The kitchen entry occupied by his body, Sonia by the front door. Richie watched as the woman’s eyes studied his face, maybe his damp hair, then lowered down to the towel in both his hands. In a slow-motion-like movement, Richie watched Mrs. Kaspbrak’s expression turn into one of recognition.

“Did you just shower in  _my house?!_ ”

Eddie’s breathing stopped for a second, still haven’t laid an eye on her.   
He could see Richie’s fists grasp the towel harder and his smile twitch. Suddenly, he feared what may happen in the next seconds.

There was anger in his movements as Richie moved one hand to his own hip and cocked an eyebrow at the woman in front of him. “ _Ridiculous_  idea _,_  ma’am!” He pressed down the R’s. “Eddie licked my hair nice and wet-”

She didn’t give him time to finish, horror in her face as she grabbed Richie by the ear, obliging the boy to bent down so as to not get any body part ripped out of him.   
Eddie’s eyes widened, finally seeing his mom there to make things real. Richie dropped the towel and grabbed her wrist, hissing in pain and squeezing his eyes.

“Mom, cut it out!” They made eye contact, then, but she didn’t let go.

“We have a lot to discuss, Eddie.” Before he could talk again, Richie was barking out a laugh, a very sarcastic and angry one.

“Listen, lady _,_ I’m trying my best to not lose my shit right now. So, would you  _kindly_  let go of my fucking ear?”

“Mom, let him go.” Even Eddie himself was surprised at the bravery in his tone. Mrs. Kaspbrak lifted her head to look at her son in disbelief, nonetheless, she let Richie’s ear alone but pushed him to enter the kitchen properly, following him inside. Richie stumbled with the push but managed to get a grip on the towel before making his way to Eddie’s side.

“ _So,_  dryer?” He lifted an eyebrow while pointing, with the soft fabric, to the machine under the kitchen counter.

“Not right now, Richie.”   
Richie’s intentions were certainly not comical, Eddie knew it was his coping mechanism but he couldn’t help and turn him down. He stared at his mom again, who was standing in front of him with an unreadable expression. “What do we have to talk about?”

He tried so hard to keep it together, hell, he did. But as soon as a paper bag was pushed to his hands, Eddie knew it was only a matter of seconds for him to lose it. Carefully, and finally, placing the full glasses on the table, Eddie grabbed the bag shakily. He peered inside.

A wave of shock ran his spine when he saw Richie’s lighter inside, along with a pharmaceutic box he too well recognised.

“Mom?” he whimpered. There were tears fogging up his vision. “Care to explain?” Behind him, he could hear Richie walking in circles and trying not to peer over and see for himself.

“Explain it, Eddie?” Aggressively, she tore the paper bag from her son’s hands and turned it upside down, letting its contents fall on the kitchen table. Richie was there in a minute.  _My lighter._  He thought. And then he remembered the sound that took them both by surprise last night.

“ _You went looking through Eddie’s bedroom?”_  He spat those words to her, on the corner of his eye, he saw Eddie’s shoulders slump. Neither of them answered him, so he scoffed and started pacing again, not even noticing the other half of the bag’s contents.

Eddie stared at the box until he couldn’t restrain himself from blinking any longer. When he opened his eyes again, it was still there.

“If you give me reasons, Eddie, I will do what I have to. Think I haven’t noticed you coughing around and trying to cover it up? And then what do I find, Eddie?” He didn’t answer, eyes on the ground. “If you think it’s funny to go smoking behind my back, I hope you find this funny too-

“Smoking? Are you serious?” He finally looked up at her in disbelief, voice strained and cheeks stained. “Do you think I’d go around  _smoking?!”_

 _“I don’t care, Eddie!”_  Her voice echoed. Eddie sniffled, feeling helpless and ashamed that Richie had to be here while this argument happened. “You’re going to carry your inhaler around again-”

Richie’s mouth fell opened at those words, watching Eddie shake his head frantically from side to side. He was choking up on his tears while trying to speak. “N-no! D-don’t make me!”

But she answered him by shoving the white and blue carton box in his chest, and Eddie took it sheepishly. That’s when Richie snapped.

“Mrs. Kaspbrak,” He approached her carefully. “I don’t think this is reasonable, Eddie doesn’t need it and besides, the lighter is mine not his-”

“Great, then he’ll stop being around you, too. You can start by leaving.”   
Then she made her way to the fridge, like nothing had happened, and started taking out various things needed to prepare dinner.   
Eddie stood there, listening as Richie’s politeness left his body in a second and started hitting her with words and curses. He stood there, getting angrier and angrier every time his mother had the audacity to attack Richie back, like she was some kind of superior being who had the right to do so.   
She’s not, Eddie realises.

She doesn’t have the right to be doing this.

“You’re a  _worthless_ prick, woman. I bet you were waiting for your chance to get Eddie under your thumb again!”

“Congrats, boy!” She tossed the tub of butter she took out of the fridge onto the counter. “You’ve got me all figured, a shame you can’t seem to understand your own mother as well.”

With all the strength he could find, although Eddie doesn’t know where it came from, maybe from the adrenaline, he screamed for them to stop while tossing the box onto the wall in front of him. There was a snapping sound once it fell to the floor, and since Eddie wasn’t so sure if it broke, he walked over and stepped on it forcefully while his throat squeezed out grunts of frustration.

Sonia spoke carefully to him, nonetheless threateningly. “Edward-

“I am  _not_  asthmatic, and I do  _not_  smoke.” He wasn’t lying, but there was still a pang of guilt living in his chest. He sniffled once more, and locked eyes with Richie, who was looking at him like he’d found his hero. “And I won’t certainly stop seeing Richie.”

On his way out of the kitchen, Richie bumped shoulders with Sonia, a childish act, yeah, but damn it if he didn’t want to push her more.   
For the next hour, Eddie expected his mom to burst through his bedroom door and make Richie leave, but strangely, she didn’t even make her presence noticeable while Eddie tried to stop crying and Richie apologized for what felt like the millionth time.

“It’s okay.” Eddie told him. “I think she needed a second reminder, you know?”

Richie knew, but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty.

By dinner time, Richie had to leave and Eddie went downstairs with him to carry him to the door. Once it was closed, his mother walked closer to him.

“Dinner is ready.”

And when Eddie followed her to the kitchen, ice cold quietness, he took a glance at the spot where his inhaler stood moments ago, it wasn’t laying there anymore. The silence in which they ate felt different this time, as if, somehow, Eddie finally let his mother know who he truly was.

 He hoped that she could take it better this time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr : @eds-spaghets  
> thank you for reading! :)


	8. N.8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I haven’t seen Richie yet.'
> 
> Damn it.  
> That’s not a healthy thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. it's been almost a month, but during this time I wrote this chapter three times because I hated all of the versions
> 
> 2\. this chapter will contain songs that didn't exist in 1993 BUT LET'S PRETEND SHHH
> 
> 3\. there's a spotify playlist at the end of the chapter. there's exactly ONE song per chapter, in order. BUT the chapters where the losers sing the songs have THREE songs instead 
> 
> 4\. i'm being a control freak, no one cares probably

**_Friday 21.05.1993_ **

 

Unlike the few other parties that Eddie attended, this one was already being different without having started. Usually, he’d be in the company of six, or five if one of them was the host. This time, however, he was able to sit in the back of Bill’s parents’ car without having to squeeze himself between shoulders. There was even an empty seat.

_An empty seat._

That’s a big deal for them.  
As he shut the door on his side of the car along with the other boys, his usual internal pep talk came into play, which happens every time Eddie is forced to attend a social event.

_It’s just a party.  
Everyone goes to parties._

Then he freaks out because _everyone_ is a lot for him.

_Still, you’re supposed to have fun._

Despite the short time it takes to get to the barn, the quietness inside the vehicle is enough to break the built-up courage. Eddie busies his hands scuffing the end of the navy pants he reluctantly put on earlier, one ankle balanced on top of his knee.  
Some minutes ago, as he hopped down the stairs and announced that he was leaving, Eddie felt confident. His mom couldn’t have done much after their fight, they barely interacted, and Eddie had to show her that he was independent enough and responsible by himself. He kind of doubted that, now.

Here, inside this car, he feels unprotected by simply knowing that there’s no one worrying about him at home. Ridiculous way of feeling.  
So, when Bill parks the car among many others on the street where the Hanlon’s residence is located, Eddie puffs air in his chest and grips the door handle, ready to have a good time.

Or so he hopes.

The four of them approach the dirt trail that guides them towards the reddish barn, although it looks greyish in the night sky only illuminated by the dim lights pouring out of the open gate.  
Music was already playing as they go inside. He scanned the place only to realise how many people already crowded it. Bad idea.

As per usual, Ben and Eddie stay together, Stan hovers closely, and since Bill doesn’t want to go around alone just yet, the four of them stick together while trying to find their remaining members.

That’s when, while on his toes to see over the heads, Eddie sees the made-up stage. He was awestruck at first, couldn’t look away, but examining it for longer made him notice that it was not that impressive.  
Sure, it had some height, maybe like two steps higher, and he could see it was made from reclaimed wood from the farm. The setup looked cheap, no surprise there. He could see a full drum set, although the various components had different colours, which was a give-away that it was put together by older parts, and there was also what looked like a keyboard, plus some extra keys that didn’t belong on a piano, set upon a stand so that whoever played would be able to be standing up.  
In the middle stood two guitar stands, one held an electric, all wood and heavy looking, and the other had an acoustic, which looked incredibly like the one that usually stands on a corner of Richie’s bedroom.

And well, that only meant one unfortunate thing.

“This can’t be happening.” Stan’s words were a little bit muffled by the general noise. Eddie shot him a knowing look, both were desperately hoping it was some kind of joke or coincidence.

“That’s _…”_ Eddie gulped and pointed back to the stage, specifically to the guitar both of them had seen many times before. When Stan nodded and draped a hand over his face, Eddie needed a miracle of some sort. Unaware of their discovery, Bill dragged Ben over to one of the tables filled with food and various coloured drinks, separating the group in half.

“They can’t be that dumb. Tell me they’re not that dumb, Eddie.” Oh, how similar both of them are. Only that Eddie can’t really find words to voice his concern right now. His mouth hung open, ready to answer that _yes,_ they are that dumb, but Mike walked up behind Stan with a nervous grin at that exact moment, shutting Eddie up immediately.

“That’s not the support we were hoping to get.” Mike shot him a wink while Stan turned around in a startled jolt. Eddie didn’t have it in him to be playful back.

“It’s a prank, right?” Stan asked with big eyes. Eddie could see that Mike was taken by surprise, his eyebrows furrowing and the smile faltering. Being mean was a gift to Stan’s existence. “Mike, everyone here isn’t like us, they’re mean.”

Mike shook his head and laughed poorly. “You’re the one being mean. They’re just teenagers, students-”

Stan’s throat did a funny noise. “My point exactly. They’ll make fun of you!” Deciding that this was going too far, Eddie elbowed his ribs, which successfully toned him down. With a long exhale, Stan rubbed his eyelids. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to be the target of mockery.”

There was a hurt frown on Mike’s face. “We’re just having fun here, friends having a good time.” His eyes met Eddie’s, probably expecting backup. He had yet to say something so he chocked up, caught by surprise.

“ _Uh…”_ He awkwardly cleared his throat and glanced between the two boys. And if guilt wasn’t already eating up his insides, all Mike did was roll his eyes, nod his head and move to another topic.

“Where are the others, anyway?”

Eddie was sure that the devil had fiery hair and a fuck ton of freckles, because she appeared just then.  
Beverly came from the back entry, probably there smoking, skipping on her steps with a giddy smile on her lips. There was a happy energy radiating from her that could be noticed miles away.  
She swung herself on Eddie’s shoulders and started jumping up and down, shaking him in the process. The shame was adding up along with a fastening heartbeat on his chest.

 _Not now._ That’s all he wanted. _Don’t panic now._

“You actually came!” She shouted over the other voices. The music playing changed.

In order to keep himself stable, Eddie placed both hands on her wrists. She kept laughing, Eddie wanted to breathe the outside air but she smelled of nicotine instead.  
With a forceful grip, he tore Beverly’s hands out of his shoulders but didn’t let go of them.

_Not now._

But her laughs died down, and he felt even worse for ruining something they probably looked forward too. He shot a glance at the stage again and felt her tugging at his wrists.  
She was smiling softly, a cure for his worry.

“I think you need a drink, Eddie.” She meant those words.

For the first time in his life, Eddie didn’t think that was such a bad idea. “I think you might be right.”

 

-

 

Eddie’s little freak-out took him outside, elbows resting against the wooden fence.

Previously, he had pretended to be present while a cup was placed in his hand, he couldn’t remember which of his friends did it. Then, he had hovered around the group religiously and pretended to drink whatever he was given. He just needed the right moment to back away without them noticing.

Ironically, it was beer pong that saved his ass. His thoughts drifting completely from what was in front of him, which was pretending to agree with whatever Stan was babbling on about and watching a fair amount of people (Beverly included) cheer whoever was heavily invested in playing the pointless game. All it took was Stan giving up on being answered, turning his head to the other side to talk with Mike instead, and Eddie was out of there in an instant. He ignored the girl he run into on his way to the back entrance and took the longest breath of his life as soon as the chill air of the night hit his nostrils.

He tried hard to keep his head out of futile worries. With a swirling cup, Eddie’s mind hovered above many things, desperate for a healthy distraction:

_Stan is quite talkative when he’s out of his comfort zone, which is very out of character._

_Where did Ben and Bill go?_

He stared quizzically at the party cup. _What the hell do they put in this?_  
_Why am I still holding it, anyway?_

_I wonder what my mom’s doing._

_Probably snoring._

_I haven’t seen Richie yet._

Damn it. That’s not a healthy thought.

But it was impossible to stop once it set. Richie, what he could be doing. Who he could be with right now. And how they could be together outside, instead. Eddie would probably ruin his wild fun by begging for his company, not that he would do that anyway.

Maybe internally.

He licked his dry lips, then remembered Richie’s.

“I’m a lost case.” He huffed out, exasperated.

“Woah, don’t think so high of yourself.” Every muscle in his body jolted, startled. _Yep,_ there goes the drink spilling out onto his fingers.

Parties, greatest human invention.

It was Richie, he acknowledged without turning around. Eddie was hit with such gratitude and relief that tears prickled his eyes. So, like the lost case he claimed to be, he lowered his head to let it rest against his upper arms that sat upon the wood railing. Now staring at the way his shoes were digging in the grass, the gravity pulled one on him and made it easier for the tears to escape, falling near his feet almost as soon as they abandoned his eyes.

Laboured breathing made its presence, he left the sense of reality behind and began to shake compulsively. Whatever was done to him for the following minutes would go subtly fogged up.

 

Up until now, Richie had been with both Bill and Ben inside, convincing them to try the pot brownies they had previously baked for the party. Before, he had taken a little container, filled it up and put it aside to share among the Losers once they were alone.

Bill had agreed to eat them eagerly after listening to how Mike had to steal his mother’s recipe so that the three of them could bake them in his kitchen. How hard it had been to get her to miss the part where they added the best ingredient hidden in Bev’s coat pocket. His mom had bought it when they said the scent came from a burnt batch.  
Ben refused them kindly, Richie didn’t push him.

There was this annoying press near his heart due to Eddie’s absence that was pushed behind with a stupidly, fake, contented grin as he hung around with his two friends and some other teens that suddenly seemed to realise he existed.

A bunch of turds, if you asked him.

So, there he was, a deep need for a second smoke in less than two hours.  
Frustrated and disappointed, he snapped out at the sight of some brainless group hanging around the couch meant for his friends and his friends only. He was cursed at while hushing them away, head a bit weary due to the stupid drinks he downed already.

Once he turned back around, Bill and Ben weren’t with him anymore. He kicked the side of the couch with a curse lost among all sounds.

“Hey, easy!” Bev’s careful hand curled around the fabric of his sleeve. He turned to face her, surprised. How did he not see her? Taking a short glance over her head, Richie saw the rest of his friends laughing hysterically at something that he failed to catch.

Bev tugged at his sleeve again so he locked eyes with her.

“Sorry.” He said. “I didn’t-”

“Have you been drinking _?_ You shouldn’t have, Rich.” He shrugged in response, careless. Worried, Beverly took his hand between hers. Richie lowered his eyes to stare at the faint bruises marking his skin.

“It’s healed, you know. I’m fine, all good. Fully operational-” He had to stop himself from babbling on and on.

With an excessively happy smile, she squeezed his fist and nodded her head towards the back-barn doors. “He’s in the back, you know?”

She laughed when his eyebrows disappeared behind his curly bangs. “You should go get him while we finally break in our red beauty.” She motioned towards the sofa he angrily kicked.

Suddenly hopeful but anxious, Richie silently mouthed _fuck_ under his breath. “I shouldn’t have drunk.” He said to the air. As soon as those words left his mouth, Beverly flicked his forehead and hushed him away. Richie complied on heavy feet, unsure of how to approach Eddie.

At the sight of him outside, alone and tense, Richie felt guilty for making him come. He knew Eddie didn’t deal well with these things, and just a few days ago Richie had been the cause of a family fight. Way to go, dickhead.

As he got closer and closer, Boys Don’t Cry by The Cure became less ear deafening and gave him a chance to hear the incoherent mumbling that fell from Eddie’s mouth. Richie was watching his profile, noticing that he was frowning and staring deadly at the cup in his hands.

 _Now, that’s new._ He thought.

Eddie’s distressed expression mirrored into Richie’s features as well. He seemed out of it, not even acknowledging his presence only a step away from touch.  
Richie was about to lay a careful hand on his shoulder when Eddie’s mumbles became clearer.

“I’m a lost case.”

“Woah, don’t think so high of yourself.” Richie couldn’t help it as the words left his mouth. At least he hadn’t acted like an asshole this time, that alone was a great achievement.

Eddie was startled, that much was expected. He was also waiting for the inevitable bickering that would follow next, but when all that happened was Eddie melting in his own body, hiding his face from the world and shoulders shaking compulsively, Richie had a hard time figuring out if he was laughing or crying.

Slightly freaked, he started by taking the full cup out of Eddie’s hands, which were doing a poor job at keeping it stable anyway. He balanced it on top of one of the vertical wood posts that constituted the fence. Then, he maneuvered Eddie’s body around until he saw how blotchy his face was. There were almost no tears staining his skin, but his breathing was irregular and faltering, a certain rasp to it.

“Hey, _hey.”_ As if he was dealing with a child, Richie ducked his head and pouted, an attempt at making Eddie smile. It didn’t work, Eddie looked away and rubbed his eyes quickly.

“Sorry.” He said between wheezes. Confused, Richie studied him. What was he sorry for? He must have stared for a long time, because Eddie started looking around in every direction, anxiety once again filling him as he stared at the few people crowding the outside space, along with the both of them. Unshed tears filled his vision, fogging his eyes. Richie broke out of his trance once Eddie’s throat gave a pained and squeezed whistling sound as the air passed quickly.

“Don’t apologize, you moron. And don’t look around.” Richie fully crowded his space, hands coming down to circle Eddie’s waist, pulling his body flush against himself close enough so that he’d block the outside from him. “They don’t care about us, promise.”

Eddie stood unmoving. His hands limp by his sides as he let himself be hidden from the world and submerged in the heat Richie was providing. After some hellish minutes of trying to keep his heart at a normal, painless beating rate, he had to admit with, agonizingly but still.

“My mom’s right.” And how it hurt him to say something like that.

Relief washed through Richie. At least Eddie was speaking coherent sentences, mostly. “I don’t know what you think she could possibly be right about, Eds, but your mom is wrong about everything.”

Squeezing him a little bit closer, Richie felt him shake his head against his chest. “I should have just taken the stupid inhaler.”

_“What?”_

“I’d be better by now and not-”

“Not what? Anxious?” He asked incredulous. “That crap’s fake medicine, wouldn’t have helped you.” Eddie’s arms made a shy way around Richie, making him smile. “You know what’d help, though?” That made him finally look up, searching for another type of comfort out of Richie, which he got just by watching him under the poor lighting. He looked… well, words are overrated.

There was glitter on his cheeks, which was new. _Weird,_ but welcomed.

“Making good use out of that cup.” Richie answered his own question. “Never thought I’d ever see you holding alcohol.”

Ignoring the suggestion, Eddie nodded towards the boy’s glowing cheeks. “You’re sparkly.” He stated. A shit-eating grin took over Richie’s face, smug and victorious. Eddie felt embarrassed for no apparent reason. “What?” He asked in a warning tone.

“Nothing!” With a shrug, Richie tried to hide his amusement.

“No, what is it?” He demanded.

For a second time, Richie shrugged. “S’just, staring at my face calms you down?”

“Like hell it does.”

“Oh, so it’s the opposite? Gets you all worked up?”

“You need to stop putting words in my mouth.” Eddie warned with a typical roll of his eyes.

 See, he could have gone for ‘I could put something else instead.’ But he settled with for other words.

“ _Yeah?_ Some nights ago, you wouldn’t have valid arguments.” Which weren’t really better.

Eddie’s face paled up, whatever hints of a smile lost. Richie should really think before speaking.

" _Fuck_ , okay, I'm an asshole." He licked his lip in a nervous habit. Mentally, Eddie stabbed him. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable… I was too, you know…?"

The confusion behind Eddie’s eyes was noticeable, so he tried to explain it without really doing it. " _You know..._ You couldn't feel it, but..." He spoke sheepishly.

Yeah, there it was, the moment of recognition he was waiting for. Embarrassed, Eddie adverted his eyes somewhere else.

_Right._

"Shouldn't have said that, either…? Okay, well, we can just... we can pretend it never happened, right?" Richie gulped down, dry scratched throat. "If that's what you want."

But Eddie’s response never came, despite the fact that neither of them were doing much effort to let each other go of their embrace. Talk about awkward.

With a heavy sigh and pleading eyes, Eddie whispered. “That’s not what I want.” It was enough to relieve the tension, although both of them failed to see how fucked up their friendship was becoming with each and every one of these occurrences.

Whatever. As always, worry about it later. As usual, ignore the consequences.

Deciding it was best to leave it at that, with a much clearer mind there were some things that Eddie needed to confirm. “Just to be clear, hm… the live music is you guys?”

With an enthusiasm that Eddie himself couldn’t feel, Richie nodded eagerly, a large smile taking over his features. “Aye, captain. We sure are!”

 _Figures._ Eddie groaned, dropping his head to let it hit Richie’s chest.

“See lots of excitement right there, uhm?” Despite the twist his stomach did, he hid the disappointment.

“Sorry…” Eddie sighed. “I need to apologize to Mike and Bev, too. I’m being kind of a jerk about this but… I feel embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” That was weirdly unexpected. “What’s there to be embarrassed about?”

“…Your voice isn’t exactly up to society standards.” Upon seeing the true impact his words had on Richie, Eddie started spitting out words. “I mean, I’m afraid someone may pick on the three of you for it and then turn it into another way to mess up with you guys. And, and I just feel embarrassed, okay? I hate that I do but I’m being honest with you, Richie-”

“Eddie.” He frowned, reluctantly starting to step back from his space. Eddie’s heart broke.

“I’m sorry.” He pleaded.

“Hey, it’s fine. Hear me out.” He placed both hands on Eddie’s shoulders. “Do I need to tell you you’re overthinking? This isn’t really a big deal.” _Well._ “If it ends up being horrible, I promise you no one here will actually remember most of it.”

“Won’t we?”

“I sure hope not.”

“I’m the asshole tonight.” He said sheepishly. “Not you.”

Turning to look at the plastic cup, Eddie thought _‘fuck it’_. He grabbed and gulped it down in one go, almost chocking up. Richie was stunned, looking at him as if he’d grown another head.  
Once Eddie finished, his face was scrunched up from the burning sensation rolling down his throat.

“You know that doesn’t have any alcohol, right?”

Richie almost lost it when Eddie’s skin burned red, even noticeable in the night, eyes so big and ashamed that, for a moment, he thought the boy would dig a hole in the ground and disappear. He finally cracked up, hunching over the railing to laugh until his eyes stung.

“ _God,_ I’m joking! Your face, dude.”

“Fuck you, you’re suck a jerk.” He threw the cup at Richie’s head, feeling guilty as it fell to the floor and picking it up immediately so as to not litter anything.

After straightening himself up and shaking the last remains of chuckles out of him, Richie started pushing Eddie in the direction of the barn once more. “There’s vodka in that, by the way.”  
It took them a little longer to actually get inside since he fell into another fit of giggles upon seeing the terrified look on Eddie’s face. 

 

-

 

After what felt like hours for Beverly, Richie finally decided to appear, Eddie by his side. She, along with the other four, were sprawled in the comfortable sofa waiting for them, barely any space to fit anyone else.

 “You turned us into a charity case.” The smile painting Richie’s lips fell at those words. With both hands resting on his hips, he looked at Stan comically.

“What do you mean?”

Stan rolled his eyes, a maddening habit, and spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You guys put this couch here for us.”  
Eddie hid a laugh under his palm when Richie looked at him, lost but trying to follow along.

“I’m… not following?”

Ben, however, laughed freely. “It feels like you’re protecting us from the beasts.” He motioned around.

Richie kept staring at Eddie, who was having a hard time keeping a serious expression.

“Is that a bad thing? It’s a nice-looking couch.” He stated, still confused. 

“You’re babying us.” Eddie concluded. Richie’s eyebrows shot up.

“No, no I’m not. I’m VIPing our club.”

“That’s not even a verb.”

“Oh, spare me, Stan. If you don’t like it why are you sitting on it?”

The piece of furniture was diagonally positioned to the stage. Now that they were closer, Eddie could see that the stage’s shape wasn’t regular, like the common rectangle. Instead, it was almost hexagonal, which made sense because they’d be standing in the middle of a large room and, this way, people would be able to watch from every corner.

Yeah, it’s not that bad at all.

“So, how long for us to see your talent?” Ben interrupted their little argument. Mike and Richie shared a look along with shrugs.

“We planned waiting until more people were around.” Mike explained.

“Yeah, but how much more can you fit in here?” Bev had a point, the place was crowded with familiar faces who kept trying to stick around their little hangout, but not tonight. Tonight, they had a silent agreement on staying close, for comfort and support.

To say that Eddie felt clingy as soon as the three of them excused themselves to go get ready (more like mentally prepared), was an understatement.  
The passionate kiss shared between Ben and Bev had him turn his face around, always felling wrongly intrusive when it came to public romantic gestures.

As the time passed, he found himself lower and lower on the couch, until most of him was hidden by the back part of it. Somewhere to their left, he could hear the far, yet familiars, _‘chug! chug! chug!’s_ over whatever crap was currently playing. A faint scent of what could be recognized as weed mixed with puke painted the air.  
_It’s only been what? Three hours?_ I mean sure, they never arrive on time to these things, having come probably a little over an hour ago, but people lose their shit too easily.

Ever since he came back inside, his curiosity was stolen by Bill, drinking. Probably for the first time in his life, not probably, for sure, Eddie had finished a full cup of alcohol. He feels slightly looser, but he wasn’t sure it was due to that. Maybe, maybe not. He wouldn’t be caught accepting to be, what his friends called, a lightweight.  
Back to the main point, he wanted more. Might as well get it over it, get drunk once, regret it, never repeating it again for the rest of his life. But, unfortunately, he wasn’t really able to go get it himself, just because.

Because, well, he’s just Eddie. That’s a valuable reason.  
And like the coward he is, as soon as Bill gets up with an empty cup in hand, Eddie grabs him by the arm. Bill jumps and curses as if he was being attacked. _Drama queen._

Trying to act nonchalantly, Eddie asks him if he could possibly bring something for him, too. He has never felt as thankful before as when Bill simply nodded and asked if he could bring the same stuff he was having.  
As expected, though, once the drink was in his hand and Bill by his side, there was no courage to actually drink it. Paranoid that everyone else was watching, he just twirled the liquid around for a while.

That’s when the music stops abruptly, a chorus of complaints emerging quickly. Eddie’s heart skipped a bit, looking around for a moment until the lights go off and suddenly, his pupils grow significantly, for the place is nearly pitch black. The grunts of disapproval were replaced by gasps, then an eager silence.

If he could see, Eddie would bet that Stan was probably rolling his eyes from the extravagant and unnecessary suspense that they wanted to cause over something like this. But on the other hand, Eddie was finally excited, even giddy with anticipation. His worries about Richie’s voice failing or any other components were tossed to the side momentarily, and he took this chance to gulp down half of what Bill brought him, which Eddie recognized as the same thing he had outside. Its taste was okay, besides the burn. However, he choked up when, out of nowhere, these beautiful lamps over the stage glowed an orange tinted light over the space.

It was still a dark environment, but warmer and cosier. That turned out to won’t be the big surprise as Mike, Beverly and Richie were already on their spots, having come up while it was room was dark, mysteriously not tripping over the dozens of electric cables crossing the surface. Eddie wanted to melt through the floor.

A round of cheering came and Bill placed two fingers between his lips to give a high pitch whistle that Eddie envied so much. Once the shouting, whistles and clapping began to fade, Richie’s impertinent voice was amplified through the one microphone standing in front of him.

“Fuck yes! What an entrance _.”_  Even Eddie laughed along with all the others. “ _So_ , I’m not gonna make a pretty speech about how thankful we are. You’re all drunk by now, just enjoy the shitty entertainment.”

More cheers. Why is Eddie surprised. He should have guessed this, but now it’s too late to take back that mild insult to Richie’s voice and hope for the best.

He took his time to watch them in this specific setting that he never would have guessed to see them. Beverly was all smiles, torn between looking at Ben and scanning her eyes through the room. Ben, on the other hand, was at the edge of his seat, right by Eddie’s side, giving her a silent pep talk every time they locked eyes.

Mike, his cheeks were glowing. _Oh._ Now he sees, all of them have glitter on, which he failed to notice and feeds into his guilty state. Mike’s cheeks are the most noticeable due to the contrast between colours. He looks amazing, no doubt, sending goofy, genuine smiles at the back of Richie’s head while he talks nonsense into the mic. His hands are skilfully turning the drumsticks as if they were bendable and the tank-top he chose to wear does him justice on showing off the strong arms he built over the years of hard farm work.

“I’m making the fine assumption that we’re all broke here.”

Right, Richie’s speaking. What’s all of that about? Eddie finishes the second alcoholic drink of his life, distracted by the happy sight in front of him. Richie’s still the same, dishevelled person. Nonmatching clothes and big teeth for a big mouth for a regular-sized face. Uncombed hair, which is the best way to go around it, and a non-filtered brain-to-mouth way.

Yeah, Richie’s still the one Eddie fell for two years ago and hasn’t been able to let go yet. Nor is he trying to.  
And, holy, if that’s not a hard thing to admit to himself after so much time of dancing around his feelings.  
So, maybe it’s the vodka-ish drink. Or maybe it’s his screwed-up appearance. Or the lightness that settled upon Eddie’s stomach moments ago.

Right now, in this room, if someone asked him who’s the most attractive person present, Eddie wouldn’t have thought twice before flinging himself at the mess that Richie Tozier is.

“Dear poor, empty-walleted high schoolers, this one was meant for us.” Richie started by running his fingers over the frets in such a rapid motion that Eddie gave up following it with his eyes. The tempo of the song was quick, his ring finger held a golden slide, and the sounds produced by it were actually good. It was really, really good.  
If there’s one thing that he’s actually committed to, is self-learning guitar. He had begged for one a few years back, and his parents gave in to his request after making him do all types of chores to prove how far he would actually work for it.

Eddie watches, with big shinny eyes, skilful hands and a concentrated face. A bitten tongue as he focused on the repetitive pattern and tried not to mess it up. The rings are missing from his fingers, tonight.

When the first hints of Mike’s drumming skills started to show, Richie began to sing, if you could call it that, and Beverly busied herself with the sound effects produced by the keyboard Eddie’s seen so many times before in her house.

It wasn’t really singing, it seemed to him that Richie was speaking at a fast speed with a certain rhythm, which made perfect sense. They had certainly picked songs that go along with his voice, _what a relief._

Eddie paid attention to the words, and an inevitable groan made its way under the music and all types of encouragement everyone was giving as feedback. He was fucking singing about a prostitute, and using his famous voices to impersonate her within the song. He chose what seemed to be British hooker.

 _‘If you can pay the right price, your evening will be nice_  
_But you can go and send me on my way.’_  
 _I said, "You're such a sweet young thing, why you do this to yourself?”_

And the rest of it went subtly ignored once Eddie turned to stare at Bill who looked like he was having the time of his life. To his right, Ben was laughing, reasons unknown. Stan was hiding his amusement behind a hand.  
After the prostitute, came a robbery. What the fuck’s this song about? _Yeah,_ got it. Being broke.  
Unbelievably, Richie was putting another voice into action every time a new character made an appearance.

The robber sounded from the south. But maybe it was a failed attempt at any other accent really.

 _‘Give me all you've got, I want your money not your life_  
_But if you try to make a move I won't think twice_  
 _I told him, "You can have my cash, but first you know I gotta ask_  
 _What made you want to live this kind of life?”_

Was it bad that Eddie was enjoying it? Richie either had his eyes closed or stuck on his guitar, and if he knew him well enough, it was from being nervous or afraid to face an audience. But if Richie did dare to look, he’d see so many faces of contentment. Everyone seemed to be enjoying their selves once Eddie turned to steal a glance.  
Mike was killing it, too, lost in his own world and feeling things to their maximum extent. There were other faint background sounds that made everything better, those were Beverly’s contributions. Eddie could hear bass, xylophone, too, played by her skilled moving hands over the keys.

Sure, the song’s also about a priest stealing money from the church.

By the end of it there were so many whistles and cheering that Eddie saw the exact moment of realisation hitting Richie in the face. _Take that_ , he thought. The idiot should think better of himself, and Eddie can be a real horrible being sometimes.  
To prove his point, he got up from the couch to applaud them that way, a genuine smile to go with it.

Richie seemed surprise, eager to get some kind of support. Eddie shot him a wink and didn’t think twice before puckering up his lips in a quick air kiss.

_So, I’m drunk. Okay._

With eyebrows suddenly flying off his face and a stupid grin, Richie didn’t look away from him as he tried to switch guitars, blindly feeling for the stand. When things got messy and he lost his balance for a second, he had to actually look away and do the task properly. Once the electric was hanging around his shoulder and properly connected to the speakers, Richie started a new combination of chords without a word. Eddie let his body hit the couch again, face red and suddenly overly shy. He placed both hands on his cheeks to check the temperature rising on his skin. _What’s gotten into me?_

It took him exactly 3 seconds to realise what song they were playing. It wasn’t shocking, either, to anyone, that tonight they’d be hearing Teenage Dirtbag. What a classic. Richie sings it all the time at Losers’ hangouts. Once again, it’s obvious that the voices will come into play, for every time he sings or performs, hat song he always sounds like a clogged-up chicken in a puberty-hit preteen boy.

“That’s my Noel impersonation!” It’s what Richie claims once the ‘I’ve got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby’ part comes along and someone mocks him for how bad it sounds.

Truth is, Eddie doesn’t think it sounds so bad this time. Maybe Richie does it on purpose when they’re all together, but tonight he sounds different, there’s effort, there’s rehearsing. There’s an expectation he put on himself and that he won’t fail to achieve. Eddie is in love. Tipsy, likely, but in love.

It's a great surprise when Beverly’s voice joins Richie’s in some harmonies. Their voices crash, not at all alike. Bev’s serious, Richie’s playing around. When people hear the first words out of her mouth, most of them wowed, stunned, which made her giggle in between words and her chest faulter with quick breaths, probably nerves, after returning her full attention to the keyboard. Ben was ecstatic.

By now, a lot of people are dancing around the weird lyrics, singing along too. This song makes better justice to Beverly’s capacities, along with Mike’s. The electric guitar is louder and different to Eddie’s ears, it does sound amazing, and Richie’s eyes are open for a change.  
Something quite great strikes his chest when that famous girly voice comes out of his lips. Eddie laughs because it sounds girlier and perkier than ever before, improved. And what were the chances of Richie singing those exact words without breaking the eye contact with him.

_‘I've got two tickets to Iron Maiden, baby_   
_Come with me Friday, don't say maybe_   
_I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby, like you.’_

Instinctively, Eddie bites his lip, and it stays between his teeth right until the very end of the song. The only thing that pulls him out of it is the intervention that follows.

“ _Alright, alright, chaps!_ There’s one last song we’re gonna play, and if you wanna get yourself laid tonight, you should take care of the arrangements in the next three minutes.” Richie took a small step back to laugh at his own joke and catch his tired breath. “I’d like to dedicate it, personally, to a lovely human being tonight.”

That’s when Richie winked in his direction.

That’s when his heart stopped.

“Eds, this one goes to your mom and all the amazing nights we spend together.”  
If he hadn’t looked away right in that moment, Richie would have seen the disappointment painting Eddie’s face.  
A hand made contact with his elbow, Bill was babbling on while the beginnings of a new song were born.

“A duh-douchebag once, a douchebag f-for life.” He’s high _,_ Eddie thinks. He doesn’t bother with a reply, instead sinking down on the couch seat and trying to pay attention on this lovely tribute aimed for his overbearing mother.  
He begun to lose hope after some horrid words like:

_‘I hope it's not a one-night stand_

_It's just you're so cool, and I wanna steal this moment with you.’_

The images in his mind were worse than ever. But some made him laugh.

_‘I miss your pain, I miss your brain, I miss your kiss, already’_

And Richie was using this as a way to mock her, so Eddie felt thankful for the obvious hatred behind the words he was singing.  
Things only started turning the wrong way, a better one, when something changed in his voice. Eddie just knew, right when their eyes met without further interruption. Eddie was sure, when hating sentences softened and eased the lines on the skin of their foreheads. It was clear that, unlike before, Richie had a new subject of dedication. It was Eddie.

 _‘I'll hold you dear  
I hope that you don't think I'm weird’   _ I don’t.

 _‘Pretend it never happened’_ That’s not what I want. That’s not what I want, Richie.

 _‘Cause we made a pact_  
_And I'll try my best not to get attached_  
 _…I'm such a fool for you’_

And like all good moments, there’s only one person to ruin them.

 _‘Well, I miss your sex,  
__I miss your lips,_  
_I miss your tits_  
 _I miss your kiss, already’_   Richie smiles playfully, still a hint of seriousness hiding underneath. This time, Eddie blushes and mouths at the edge of his cheap party cup with a fire growing inside his chest.

Maybe parties aren’t so bad after all.

 

-

 

Eddie didn’t have any sense of what time it was. Late, probably.

“Why’s everyone leaving?” He pouted and turned to look at his friends, who were entertained by the sight of Eddie and Bill dancing comically in front of them. They had their arms linked, facing different directions and spinning around in circles. “Woah, the room’s spinning.”

Beverly lowered the cigarette from her mouth, Mike allowed her to smoke inside now that the space was clearing up. “That’s because we shut the power down half an hour ago so they’d get bored and leave.”  
Tightening the grip he had on Bev’s mid-section, Ben chuckled.

“You’ve been dancing without any music.” Bill started to sing some tune they all remembered from childhood, tugging on Eddie’s arm to keep spinning. He wasn’t prepared for such movement so he fell on his butt and dragged Bill along by the arm, who started laughing as soon as he hit the floor, and Eddie.

Their little show had ended some hours ago, with a lot of success, anyone would say. A group hug was shared, along with some drunken apologies from the ones that hadn’t shown support previously. Needless to say, everyone was forgiven without resentments.

Eddie let his head hit the floor, laying there with Bill half on top of him. It was very warm inside.

“So, what now?” Stan asked, although he would regret this as soon as Richie dizzily got up without a word. “Oh, no.”

“Shhhh.” Richie said while rounding the couch to stand behind it. He placed both hands on the cushioned back and pulled so hard his knuckles turned white. At last, he gave up and huffed out an exhausted breath.

“What, exactly, are you trying to accomplish?”

“Stanley, I’m starting to believe you have a fixation on me. I’m flattered.” He ducked his head to lick a long stripe on the side of Stan’s face. He jolted with disgust and desperately rubbed the spot with the back of Mike’s hand.

‘ _Such weirdos._ ’ Eddie thought. But he was still on the floor, maybe Bill was snoring by now. Who’s the weirdo, in the end?

“ _Miikeeeey.”_ Richie keened. “Come save me with your guns.”

The said boy turned his head around in his seat. “My _what_ , now?” But he got up anyway at the sight of Richie’s baby pout.  
They both stood behind the sofa and started pulling again, moving the piece of furniture along, gaining speed at each step.

“What the fuck?!” Stan jolted in his seat while being moved backwards.

“We wheeled the couch, babes!”

“Why would you do that?!” But Stanley didn’t get an answer, watching Ben and Beverly have fun. The room was moving in the background.  
Soon, Mike and Richie were giving one final tug and running out of the way, the couch rolled around at a fast speed until it stopped right before hitting a wall. Richie mocked Stan for the high-pitch scream he let out.

Eddie sat up, shaking Bill out of his sleepy state, to stare with amusement at the little wheels he failed to notice drilled on the couch feet. When Richie and Mike resumed their previous place ready to push their friends to the opposite wall of the barn, Eddie got up and tried to run without falling. He messily threw himself on top of the legs of those who were sitting, earning a groan in response. No one tried to move him away.

“I don’t think we can move the four of you as easily.” Mike stated.

“Cowards, do it.” Eddie retorted back, and everyone laughed at him. What’s so funny?

“Hop off, Eddie. I’ll help.” Beverly pushed Eddie off of the couch. He ended up on the floor for the second time that night before sitting on Bev’s previous spot and bending his legs underneath his weight.

Bill stumbled to his feet and tried to look for the main power switch to turn on the stage lights again while Bev, Mike and Richie finally started their little race. A collective scream came from the group at the speed they were gaining. The barn was wide, sure, but they were close to hit the wall if it wasn’t for the sudden turn the ‘drivers’ managed to do.  
The sofa started to spin at a slower speed until they decided to keep doing that instead of running around. The three of them pushed the right places to keep the couch rotating until Ben begged them, with tears streaming down his face from laughing, to “Please, stop, I’m going to pass out.”

It was the most stupid thing they could have done, but it was also the most fun.

That fun was instantly killed when Eddie threw up outside after getting up. He had ended up crying, too, maybe because he was pissed, or maybe because his feelings were all over the place.

It was probably around 4 a.m. that Mike announced he would get everyone some blankets and throw pillows from his house.  
He was gone, approximately, 15 minutes. That time was enough for Bill to park his car inside the barn and scrape his right rear-view mirror even though the barn entrance could fit a bus.

By the time Mike came back, the lights were already off and he was greeted with the sight of Bill’s car inside, every door opened and the couch placed directly underneath the trunk. Both Beverly and Ben were already squeezed on the red sofa.

Bill was awkwardly trying to curl himself inside the trunk without stepping on the couple sleeping. Mike suppressed the urge to laugh and helped his drunk friend inside while giving him one of the many blankets he brought, along with a pillow.

Another one was draped over Ben and Bev, but no pillows for those two, lucky ones. When Mike peered inside the car, he saw, fondly, that the backseat was slightly tilted back, minimizing even more Bill’s space. Richie and Eddie looked very uncomfortable in there, bigger legs hanging outside. He threw them a blanket aggressively, startling both of them up. He was flipped off, worth it.

Lastly, both front seats had also been tilted back as much as they could go. Stan stood on the driver seat, laying sideways and looking at Mike with interest. He was minorly tipsy, but his cheeks were the most flushed.  
No words were spoken as he climbed on the passenger seat and gave Stan the last pillow. His arms curled around it.  
The remaining two blankets were sorted between them, deep breaths already being heard by some of their sleeping friends.

That night, the only reason Eddie woke up was to curl around Richie’s body and being held tighter right back.

Happiness was truly intoxicating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the comments you leave on this work, they mean the absolute world for me and I couldn't be more grateful  
> This chapter..... I hate it  
> I started to hate my plot while writing this so I hope my love for it comes back  
> I just think it's cringy now... oh well
> 
> <3 love you all, thanks for reading!
> 
> PLAYLIST : https://open.spotify.com/user/ofg4o5cwm94og54mdqumlu5im/playlist/7g5bJiHkHUr9U8cPTP4XPz?si=a7Nr0xF1RT2uQDTDrRQu7Q


	9. N.9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I’m gonna tell him.' 
> 
> His mouth feels dry, like sand paper. 
> 
> 'I need to tell him.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to finish this chapter before the actual ending of the Losers' day, which bothers me, but this was getting too long.  
> And also because I'm sick, can't write the ending the right way, and I still wanted to post before the end of the year. So there's that.  
> (I also feel like my writing is getting sloppier?)
> 
> Enjoy! <3 And I wish you all a great year ahead

**_Monday 24.05.1993_ **

 

There’s one thing on Richie’s mind when he wakes up Monday morning. Today is going to be a great day.

He just knows it, not sure why, but he does.  
Maybe it’s because he woke up earlier than planned and it’s only 6 a.m. Or it could be that he feels energetic instead of sleepy, and he practically got out of bed before opening his eyes. Maybe it’s the temperature outside. When he put one hand out his window he was greeted with warmness, despite being so early. If we add all these factors with the most important one: less than two weeks for school to end, there’s only one conclusion to take.

Today is going to be a great day.

There’s a plan forming in the back of his head while he gets dressed, trips over his shorts when they get tangled in his bare feet and closes the bedroom door carefully, as to not wake up anyone who might be sleeping on the room opposite of his.  
Shoes in hand and backpack hanging from one shoulder, he tip-toes down the hallway and enters the kitchen to find his dad sitting in front of a big pot of coffee. Real homemade coffee that smells blissfully.

_Since when…?_

Richie lowers his belongings to the floor near the doorway and walks close enough for Went to lift his head in surprise.

“Morning.” Richie says, intrigued.

His dad studies him. “You’re up early.” Richie wants to spat out a witty response, but is it really worth to ruin the mood? “Grab a mug and have some.” Went nods towards the pot.

Richie does as asked and searches the cupboards for his favourite mug, the one he had made himself as a kindergarten project. While he sits on the opposite chair and pours himself a hot steamy cup of coffee, the small conversation keeps coming despite his disinterest in keeping it up.

“Does that thing still hold liquids?” His dad chuckles poorly. Richie offers him a small smile, although he’s heard this same mug joke many times while growing up. Like father like son.  
For a change, Richie thought about his words.

“For now, yeah. It’s bound to break anytime soon. Most things around here are.”

With a heavy sigh, the older man pushed his cup aside. “I guess I deserve that.”

“Yeah, you do.” Richie cut him off when it seemed like he was going to keep talking. Which he did, anyway.

“Your mother and I went grocery shopping yesterday. You were already locked in your bedroom when we got home.” Is it too bad that the only thing that he’s thinking right now is how the hell she was sober enough for that? “Did you have dinner, at least?”

“Why suddenly worried?” His father gave him a stern look, so Richie cut the bitterness. “I had food, it’s fine.” He got a nod in response, and with that, he was left alone in the kitchen.

Both his parents are home, there's fresh warm coffee for him to drink, food on the fridge, filled up cabinets, and he got to talk with his father without arguing and getting on his nerves. Yep. Not a regular day at all, but he wasn't complaining.  
  
Richie took his time to search every shelve, think through his options and make a mess on the counter top by scattering every snack around and finally deciding on which to shove inside his backpack. After washing up and trying to untangle some knots in his hair, he finally put his plan into motion and left the house. In the driveway, he turned left instead of taking the usual right path that would take him to Derry’s high school.

 

-

 

“What are you doing here so early?” Ben asked, surprised that when his mom called him to the front door was to find Richie standing there.

“Haystack!” Richie said after making sure Ben’s mother was out of ear-range. “I came here because my guts told me you’d be one of those early birds that’s actually awake by now when school only starts in two hours. Nice pajamas by the way.” He winked and smirked down at the Ninja Turtles’ t-shirt with matching shorts. Ben reddened significantly.

“It was a great movie, stop making fun of me.” He tried to defend himself.

“Oh, no, not making fun at all. They’re genuinely nice.”

“For real, though, Rich. What’s going on?” Ben went straight to the subject, which Richie forgot about once the door opened.

“Yeah, right! Listen…” He motioned for Ben to come outside, stealing a glance behind him inside the house to see if there was any risk of being overheard. Ben complied, stepping out onto the front doormat and leaving the door almost all the way closed. He wore a concerned expression, worried almost. “Take that frown away, my friend. I’m merely here to take you on a fun adventure.” Richie was stage whispering, low enough to keep it between them.

“Adventure? On a school morning?” Ben was genuinely confused, and Richie took notice that his frown was not judgmental. This is why he chose Ben to come by first, he was always opened to his stupid ideas, or at least give them a chance to speak them out before turning him down.

“School morning? Oh, nah. That’s where you’re wrong, Benny. I see a bright, bright future, tell tales ahead a couple of good ol’ friends! But I fear that school is not a recognizable one in this journey, chap.” He clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder and left it there for support.

Ben stays quiet for a while, registering Richie’s words without once complaining that he’d use his voices and be weird. He always goes along the conversations as if it wasn’t harder to understand him. Seriously. Who is this angel?

“You want to skip school?” Richie nods eagerly. “All day long?” He nods again. That’s when Ben’s attention gets caught in the bright colored swim trucks that’s Richie’s wearing. “ _Oh._ Well, okay, yeah.” He clasps his hands together, twiddles around with his fingers in deep thought.

By now, Richie has learned how to come around each of his friends.  
If he wants Mike or Bill to agree on doing something, he’ll be quiet and put on a pout that must work wonders, because they always end up going along. Well, most times.  
If it’s Bev, he’ll keep mentioning the crazy shit and cool outcomes, but she’ll agree either way.  
When it comes to Eddie and Stan, it takes a bigger effort. He has to play it as if it’s not that big of a deal, convince them it’ll be fun and zero negative consequences.  
Richie’s certain they don’t believe that stuff, but mysteriously, they roll their eyes and join him.

Ben? Ben is the easiest. He knows it’s wrong and it looks like he’s taking advantage of his niceness by coming to him first than the others. But it’s just smoother. All he has to do is mention the plan and the fun things they’ll do. Then he needs to take the guilt out of his friend’s chest.

“What do you say, uh? School’s basically over, where’re doing shit in those classrooms. You and I could go get the rest of the gang and head off to the quarry.”

“We’re not a gang.” Ben points out, mildly agitated.

“We’re a soft gang, dude, like the seven dwarfs wrapped in bubble wrap.” That didn’t make much sense, not even to Richie. Ben seems equally lost.

“…What?”

“We go pick them up, bring some food and music.” He decides to ignore the question.  “We could spend the day swimming and be back before anyone notices we’re not actually in school.” Richie looks expectedly at him. “Bright, right? Besides, we deserve this, man. Working our asses off for those school projects, which you’ll nail, by the way.”

“Your ways of persuasion are scary, you know that?” Ben smiles at him and fights off a chuckle.

Richie pumps a fist in the air before turning serious again. “That’s a yes, right?”

 

-

 

“A-Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Standing by Richie’s side, Ben smiles sheepishly at Bill, all of them gathered in the front porch of the Denbrough’s.

Bill sighed. “Y-yeah, I don’t know that e-either.”

“We have to deal with Stan, your leadership qualities are required, Big Bill.”

“I think we might need more than that.” Ben shakes his head.

He was partly right. Once the three of them biked their ways to Stan’s place, leaving oblivious parents behind, they had to beg for him to agree. So much to the point where Ben and Bill started doubting if this was really worth it and if maybe they still had time to go back and get their textbooks. Richie was close to tears by that point, saying how betrayed he felt.  
Then Ben softened up again, said he’d go, and that’s how you waste precious time discussing something that ends up in the exact track it was originally planned.

That said, they find themselves heading over to Eddie’s house at 7:24 in the morning. An even bigger challenge ahead.  
They can’t really go through the front door, it’s simply not an option. So, they opt for the most rational one: let Richie climb through the window.

Well, almost all of them agree to it.

“Wait, why Richie?” Stan asks while they gather up by the side of Eddie’s house. The sun has barely risen yet, it’s too early for this joke, in Stan’s opinion. “He’ll probably get us caught with how much noise he makes. You should go, Bill.” He stares at him.

There was something resting against Richie’s tongue, begging to be said. Something that would out his secret nightly meet-ups to their friends. Which wasn’t that big of a deal, but kind of was, at the same time.  
What makes it special is that Richie gets to see Eddie, be with Eddie, touch him and talk to him. But the secretive aspect of it added something more to it.  
Something he wouldn’t be able to describe even if he tried.  
So, he shot a simple smirk in Stan’s way, paid him little attention and turned around to face the plumbing pipes and get a foot on the laundry room’s outer window sill, where he could faintly make out various footprints that matched his from previous nights.

It was almost too easy, the way he knew where to grab, knew when to jump. Too easy for it to be occasional. That’s what gave it away.  
Bill wore a proud little grin at the sight of Richie’s body disappearing through the tiles of the first-floor roof under Eddie’s window. A smile that didn’t reach the other two.

“Of course.” Stan huffed out. “Impossible not to guess.”  
Ben stayed quiet, sweaty hands grabbing the handlebars of his bike.

 

Okay, so, the original plan? The one that involved being stealthy, quiet, and quick at getting Eddie out of his house?  
It’s not gonna be that simple.  
As soon as Richie gets the window opened, he is faced with the reality that Eddie’s bed is still very much on the same place. Under the window. That means some things:

Richie can’t get in without getting on the bed.

Richie’s staring at an open-mouthed Eddie sprawled on his back.

And Eddie has morning wood.

Shit, okay. It’s no big deal, it’s just _right there_ , and the bed sheets are kicked back, and Eddie is wearing short shorts and Richie can’t _fucking look away._

He needs a new plan, fast.  
Tearing his eyes away from a certain place, he starts by kicking off his shoes and trying to balance them on the crooked roof with shaky hands before attempting to climb inside. All it takes is him getting one leg trough and, of fucking course, the alarm standing on the bedside table goes off at the same time as Richie settles his foot by Eddie’s head.  
Immediately, Eddie jolts awake at its sound and his eyelids flutter open.

Now, here they stand, staring at each other in this weird position until Eddie opens his mouth, ready to scream, and Richie has to slap a hand over his lips to keep Sonia out of the equation.

Eddie’s high-pitched voice comes muffled behind Richie’s palm. The words are unrecognizable, but it’s obvious that he’s startled and confused, and the alarm clock is still beeping beside them. Aggressively, Eddie whacks Richie’s hand away before scooting to the edge of the bed to slap the stupid alarm off.  
While that, Richie falls through the window and land his full body by the head of the bed.

And then Eddie took notice of his _issue._

It should have been pitiful, and well, it was. But it was also hilarious for Richie. So much that he barely contained his laughs when Eddie’s eyes fell to his own crotch. His shoulders tensed up immediately and he squeaked in embarrassment.

In the matter of two seconds, Eddie had let himself slid off the bed onto the ground, kneeling down and turning around to shove his face on the mattress and cover his front with his hands, even if Richie could only see his hair from where he sat. He was trying _so_ hard not to laugh.

“T’was a nice dream, I assume?”  
The answer that came from Eddie was simple. He blindly grasped the sheets, pulled them over his head, and he let out a long-lasting suffering scream that came out only has a whistling wheeze from underneath the covers. The action was close to make Richie lose it. But then Eddie said something he couldn’t quite make out.

“I can’t understand you if you’re speaking to your bed, Eds.”

Tossing the covers back, Eddie snapped his head up sharply, “ _I said_ , why does this stuff keep happening to me?” His glare was so intense and frustrated that Richie could almost feel the anger digging holes in his eyes, where they gaze met. Something inside him heat up.

“More like, why does it happen when I’m around, _uh?”_ He grinned cockily.

Eddie visibly struggled with what to say, torn between a horrified frown and hiding his face again, all the while blood rose to the surface of his skin. After the inner battle, he gave up those options and sighed with apparent agony. “What are you even doing in my room at seven thirty in the morning? Is this a nightmare?”

Richie opened his mouth, ready to fire something back, but it seemed that Eddie changed his mind because he didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“You know what? No. Please leave. Whatever this is it can wait until I have breakfast.”

“But-”

“No.” Eddie whispered. “Richie, get the fuck out before my mom comes check on me. _I’m serious_.”

Richie shot him a comical stare. “You’re not just kicking me out go take care of that boner, are you?”

Not giving a fuck about his mom all the sudden, Eddie groaned loudly and grabbed the nearest pillow to aim in the direction of Richie’s head. He nailed it. When the pillow fell to the floor, his glasses were torn out of his face and hanging only on one ear.  
They stared at each other for a long time, Eddie with an angry grimace, Richie with his mouth hung open in shock. It was a lost battle of seriousness, they both began to crack at the same time, and once they saw each other’s need to laugh, they let it happen.

“Seriously…” Eddie heaved out between laughs. “You’re such a boner killer.”

“Okay, that’s totally unfair.” Richie said while pushing his glasses back into place “I bet you were dreaming of my big-”

“ _Fuck off,_ _Tozier._ ” Despite his darkening cheeks, Eddie cut him off with an angry fire in his voice. “What do you want from me?”

Richie watched Eddie get up and going for his dresser on the opposite wall of the room. “Just a couple things, actually, with sunscreen on top?” He spoke with a suggestive tone, and Eddie turned around with eyebrows scrunched together in suspicion.

“I don’t like the sound of that.” He said while resting his back against the front of the wooden dresser.

“What could you possibly be expecting from me?” He scooted all the way to the end of the bed, feet on the floor and hands behind his body to support some weight.

“That maybe, possibly, you missed me, and that’s why I got to woke up to the worst sight ever?” Eddie inquired with irony.

Richie bit the inside of his cheek a tiny bit harder than intended. “Well, maybe I did miss you.” Did it sound as shaky as it did to him?

With an unsteady and weak chuckle, Eddie turned his back to him to go through the drawer where he stored shorts and pants. A weird silence settled over the room. Eddie could feel his own heartbeat straining against the skin on his ears, and the horrible taste in his mouth from a whole night of sleep was persistent on making him uncomfortable in his own skin. Before he had the chance to come up with some kind of response, Richie got up and padded to his side in an instant, snapping Eddie’s hands away from the pair of shorts he was holding. They fell to the floor.

“Nuh, uh.” Richie disapproved. He pushed Eddie aside and opened another drawer instead that held mostly underwear and pajamas, killing the tense moment they were washed in seconds ago. Eddie turned crimson at the sight of Richie going through his underwear with determination.  
He finally took out three pairs of swimming trucks and held them in the air away from Eddie’s fevered hands that were trying to retrieve them.

“So, which color you feeling?” With both hands up, Richie locked one foot under the pair of shorts laying on the floor between them and kicked them up in the air. Even if caught out of surprise, Eddie managed to get a hold of them. “Blue, red, or pink?”

“Your sight is concerning, that’s salmon.” With a scoff, Eddie busied himself packing up the shorts back in their place. “And none, you’re not getting me to ball out with you.”

Without a proper choice, Richie tossed the blue pair to the bed and stuffed the remaining two inside the drawer, closing it before Eddie had time to complain that they shouldn’t be stored away crumpled. “And who said anything about balling out?”

“The pina colada socks.” Eddie had to clasp a hand over his mouth to prevent him from snickering too loud. “And maybe the sunscreen request, and the outfit choice?”

With a big genuine smile painting Richie’s face, he teased along. “Yours or mine?” Eddie rolled his eyes and walked past him to get a hold on said blue trunks. He shoved them in Richie’s chest.

“If I’m not dressed and out of my bedroom in about three minutes, my mom will come in here with a thermometer and tea, so here’s the deal.”

Richie tossed the piece of clothing over his shoulder as a used rag and proceeded to lift up one hand in a salute gesture. “I’m all ears, Sir.” Eddie sent a soft punch to his stomach. Worth it.

“If you get me a bag ready while I head down for breakfast, _and_ you do it the right way without getting me in trouble by getting caught, I’ll consider the offer.”

And it’s in these times that Richie has to stop for a minute and try to figure out who the person standing in front of him is. He realizes, with a certain heartache, that no matter how much Eddie changes he’s still going to be crazy about him. About this boy that turned Richie’s chest into a garden, or a starry sky. Both are good comparisons in diverse ways. But reality calls him, and even if Eddie grows and flourishes into all these beautiful unknown sides of him, Richie, apparently, doesn’t go through the same processes.

“It’s a race, then. We meet by the back of your house.” Richie held out a hand to bet. Eddie took it.

 

Things were going smooth so far. Eddie had gotten dressed in the bathroom while Richie was left rummaging throw the bedroom for whatever he was lucky to find. So far, Eddie hadn’t heard a single noise coming from behind that door, which was a good sign.

He had left the swimming trunks behind, because he wouldn’t be caught dead explaining _that_ to his mom over breakfast. By the time he ended up washing his face and combing his hair, he left the bathroom looking as casual as ever, shorts and a t-shirt, mid-calf socks and his favorite pair of sneakers.

He was about to head for the stairs when the door to his bedroom opened. Richie got out as quietly as Eddie has ever witnessed in his life, and then they locked eyes. Instead, Richie’s darted lower and stopped at his ankles.

“High socks for the quarry?” He whispered as low as he could.

“Do you want me to get down there wearing flip flops?” Eddie pointed towards the end of the stairs.

“Ditto.” Eddie watched him open the bedroom door once more. “Then I guess I have one more thing to get from here.”

“Don’t get me the fucking sandals, _I hate them._ ” But the door was already closed, and Eddie gave it up and went downstairs with a different smile playing on his lips.

 

Richie was trying. But Eddie knew what he was doing, because he couldn’t find _anything._ Well, almost.  
In the bedroom, all he got were the trunks, a spare t-shirt, the sandals that Richie knew Eddie hated, and he managed to find one of the hats Eddie sometimes wears in the summer when they spend a whole day outside.  
There was also no way he could get food, for obvious reasons. And he soon concluded that the important stuff was stored away in different places. He had to go through every bathroom cabinet to find sunscreen, and when he did, he found about five different bottles of it. A quick scan told him that two of the smaller ones were specifically to apply over your face, and the bigger ones where full body appropriate. _Why is that even a necessary point to make?_ He rolled his eyes and got one of which, just to be sure.

Now, towel. That’s a different challenge.

He stood in the hallway, listening to the random chatter and silverware clinking sounds that came from the kitchen, contemplating if he was about to do this. He was facing none other than Sonia’s bedroom door. Where the master closet was. Where probably, hopefully, a single fucking beach towel would be.

As he got the door open, Richie kept reminding himself that it was going to go okay. It better go. Because if not, he can kiss goodbye a lot of great things in his life.

He almost kneeled down in front of the wooden cross hanging over the mirror in Sonia’s room when he finally found the towel storage of the house, all neatly stacked together. In the far back of those piles, there was a smaller one with only beach towels instead, and Richie recognized the one Eddie uses all the time. But something else caught his eye. In that same pile, Richie saw the faded colors that took him back to their childhood. When Bill and Stan, Eddie too, would get together to play in one of their yards and get sprayed with the irrigation systems or someone’s hose. With great amusement, he knew this was Eddie’s childhood worn-out towel. And he didn’t think twice before grabbing that one instead and shoving it inside the backpack.

 _‘No one can prove anything.’_ He thought while stepping out of the room and closing the door behind himself with a soft click. Mentally, he high-fived himself for getting his assigned task complete. Downstairs, he could hear what he assumed was the breakfast ending. They were no longer chatting, and the water was running on the kitchen faucet.  
Richie made his way back to Eddie’s bedroom and put on the backpack through both arms so that he could have a smooth way down.

Sliding the window open as quietly as he could manage, Richie settled on the outer-side, got his shoes on and tied, and finally made his way down. He ended up thinking to high of himself, deciding to jump to the grass instead of resting one foot on the last spot he’d usually go for.

As soon as his ankle wobbled under the weight, Richie bent down to put pressure on it. “ _Motherfucker, that hurt-”_

“Wuh-What took you s-s-so long?” Richie snapped his head to stare at a very agitated Bill towering over him. Richie struggled to get up on both feet, finally noticing that Ben and Stan were nowhere to be seen.

“Where are the others?” He asked while going for his bike and sliding Eddie’s bag off his shoulders to switch for his own, instead.

Bill took a while to get moving, copying Richie’s actions. Both started to round the house towards the front parking space.

“You left m-me waiting for half an huh-hour, Richie!” His stuttering was very prominent, which only happened when Bill was apprehensive.

“Bill, relax. We didn’t get caught or anything. Eddie was just asleep, it took us a little longer.” He shrugged once they stopped near the front door, but off to the side enough that they couldn’t be seen from the living room window.

Bill’s shoulders visibly deflated, hopefully less tense. While they waited for Eddie’s arrival, Bill explained that Ben and Stan went ahead to Bev’s place so that all of them could meet at Mike’s, since he lived the closest to the quarry.  
Once the front door opened, they both watched Eddie come out.

“Looks like I beat you, slow ass.” Richie joked and tossed him the backpack. Bill chuckled along while they followed Eddie’s steps to the bike laying on the grass.

“W-What was the issue, Eddie? Muh-morning wood slowed you down?” At Bill’s snarky comment, Eddie tripped over his bike’s wheel while Richie barked out a laugh and hunched over the handlebar.

 

-

 

By the time the three of them reached the rural landscapes, something on the dirt-ish road made them stop pedaling. Mike’s pick-up truck was parked in the middle of the deserted road, Bev, Ben and Stan standing near beside it.

“Good morning, my fellow rule-breakers!” Richie exclaimed once they got close enough. “What’s the matter?” He peered inside the passenger window to stare at Mike.  
He had started driving his father’s vehicle, helpful in many ways around the farm, not so long ago. It made his way to school easier, but he still bikes most of the time. Richie assumed he was driving today because the day as promised to be a very warm one. Either that or he had work to do before going home after classes. He hoped not.

“We just met Mike here.” Stan explained. “He was already on his way to school so it’s best if we go straight to the quarry from here.”

“Yeah, I can’t go back to grab my stuff now.”  Mike agreed from his seat. “I have nothing on me, but we’ve been down there in underwear too many times to make it awkward now.” He joked, earning a few chuckles from the group. “Well, what are y’all waiting for? Hop on!”

“Ben and I get the truck!” Bev exclaimed while hopping off her bike and pulling Ben along closer to the back of the vehicle. Richie only had time to complain once before she threatened to drown him later on. He dropped the subject, but not before making sure he’d have the spot on their way back.  
It was a problem to fit 4 bikes on the truck while also making sure to leave space for two people to sit comfortably back there. Bill had claimed he would not get Silver up on that mess while Stan also cherished the well being of his bike enough that they earned the spots on the roof rack. The whole ordeal took them longer then expect, and once everyone was on their own spot, a pile of bags on top of Eddie, Bill and Richie’s legs that took the backseat, excitement was finally coming to everyone.

The ride there was everything but quiet, as per usual. Everyone was entertained between singing off key to the radio, sharing stories from their past week and a few plans for the future were also discussed. Eddie, however, was fairly silent. He sometimes shot a glance or two to the rear window and saw the perfect couple with their hairs in a mess from the wind, but giant smiles on their faces. Eddie was happy for them, specially Ben. They both had grown to be closer to each other, and a fair amount of conversations between them had been about Ben’s feelings towards Bev as the years went by. When Eddie knew the first details of progress between the two of them, he was nothing but happy, maybe a tiny bit jealous, too. But those were feelings he would never share. Just like he never opened up about his own inner battles involving crushes, or wishes, or anything of that matter. Because for one, they were about boys. And two, as they grew older, those feelings started to focus on only one boy. (And third, that boy was Richie. Amusing.)

It wasn’t because he feared Ben’s reaction, which would certainly spread to Bev’s reaction, if not more. Well, maybe it was that, too. But it would just be worse for everybody, specially Eddie. Why should he go and write a death sentence for himself? Everything is easier if not spoken, not shared, not admitted.  
Eddie had a feeling that Richie thought the same, himself. After all, it looks like it’s exactly what they’ve been doing, lately.

Suddenly frustrated at these new incoming thoughts, Eddie angrily shoved his hands on the backpack Richie had prepared for him that was currently sitting on his lap. The sound drew some attention to him, but he turned his head towards the window and fought against his trembling jaw.

Eddie was… he was _mad_ at himself. Disgusted by his thoughts and actions that he swore, years ago, to never fall on to. He wasn’t supposed to give in to such vile things. He just couldn’t, it was wrong, it was wrong, and he was being weak to let things get out of control.

Even if it was Bill sitting next to him right now, Eddie needed space. He felt dirty because his thigh was touching Bill’s. He felt like an inconvenience, as if he’d make everyone uncomfortable by being close to them. His intentions were good, normal and friendly, and he’d get on the floor to swear for his life. But the real question was: could his friends see past that if they knew who he really was?

Now, he’s also not dumb. Richie’s sexuality is not any of his business, but Eddie knows there’s more to what he shows, more to what he allows others to see and know. But it’s not Eddie’s place to go in his face and just, god, _do_ something. Eddie can’t simply jump on him, or confront him about it, or, _hell,_ think about him in the shower and act like a horn dog when they’re together.  
And it’s these thoughts that totally kill the mood for him. He’s been embarrassing himself multiple times now, and Richie has been taking these hits and put them behind his back in order to keep their friendship stable. If anything, Richie should want distance, or explanations. Why does Richie have to go through these awkward situations that Eddie keeps forcing on him? No, not forcing… Eddie doesn’t want them either, but they keep happening and there’s no one else to blame but himself.

If he can remember, and he totally can, Eddie was the one to imply that he was curious about the stuff Richie smokes, which then brought them to that night at the quarry that he still begs to be erased from his memory.  
That brings him to think about the day when he caught Richie smoking in his room after skipping school. He had been… in his own privacy doing whatever he wanted to do with his body, which Eddie needs to stop thinking about. And who exactly was the one to invade him? Eddie had been.  
And god, that cursed night in his bed. What he allowed himself to do. His brain is begging him to tear every bit of his skin off, to get rid of such filthiness. Maybe he should really start going to church again with his mother, maybe that’s what he needs.  
There are more images flooding his head, such as the fight from a week ago, and the occurrence this morning. It’s too much. It’s all too much and he can’t breathe evenly at the moment.

As they drive their way through the foresty part of Derry, there’s a final thought evading Eddie’s mind.

Today is proving itself not to be the greatest day.

-

By nine o’clock the truck was already parked and left behind among the threes. The group made their way to their usual hanging spot and it didn’t take long for Bill, Richie and Mike to start taking off clothes and racing towards the water (glasses still on.). Mike stayed truthful to his previous words, not showing a care in the world for being in boxers amongst people in swimming garments. Eddie had to glue his eyes to the floor to make sure he didn’t make the mistake of even staring at the boy’s knees or anywhere else.  
He was so out of place.

While the three of them splashed around (or tried to drown each other, which was still unclear) the rest of them started to place the towels down. Eddie didn’t go that far, simply sitting on the smoothest rock he could find and religiously playing with a loose lint of his socks once the three wet losers made their way back in a loud conversation. He then started to mess around with his shoe laces as all his friends chatted away and got music playing on someone’s portable radio.

His so much needed peace ended as soon as his backpack was violently pulled from his shoulders, some droplets of water hitting him on the exposed skin above the collar of his shirt. It’s too early for this, he thinks once he manages to balance himself to not fall off the rock onto his back. He turns around, fire in his eyes to stare up at a dripping wet and shivering Richie.

“What?” He snarls at him.

“Oh, wow. What’s gotten into your butt?” He aims for the backpack once again, but Eddie scrambles to his feet before he manages to get a hold of it.

 _I don’t want anyone to touch me._ Eddie thinks.

“Just, don’t touch me.” That’s what he says instead.  
Richie eyes him, shocked and hurt. “I’m gonna go change.” Eddie announces and walks around the rock standing between them before disappearing among the trees.

Richie turns to face the others, confusion painted on his face. “Did I do something?” But it’s not like none of them can possibly know it.

  
Eddie walks for longer than needed just to make sure he can’t be seen while getting dressed. But he knows he’s being followed.  
With a sigh, he turns around and gets slightly confused at the sight of Stan trying to keep up with him.  
It’s not like he was expecting someone else, anyway.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks him, removing one arm from the backpack straps as casually as he manages while his throat starts to ache.

 “What do you mean, what am I doing?” Stan asks as he finally catches up with Eddie. “I’m going to change.” He raises a suspicious eyebrow at him. “Unless you expect me to get in the water in pants?”  
Eddie’s eyes lower to Stan’s legs, obviously covered with dark navy pants that look too warm to be comfortable under the morning sun.

“Oh.” He tears his eyes away. “I didn’t notice, sorry.”

Stan stays quiet, observing Eddie with eyes that say more. Eddie ignores him with all his might and turns around to start discarding clothes. He finally hears Stan shuffling with his own clothing, Eddie shuts his eyes close for a few seconds until there’s a painful pressure behind his eyelids. When he opens them again, the day is too bright for his liking.  
There’s a freaked-out voice on the back of his head warning him of how much he shouldn’t be undressing in front of Stan, even if this same situation had occurred endless times before.

Hesitation comes in waves from behind his back, Eddie can practically hear the questions Stan wants to ask him with all the deep sighs he keeps releasing. Otherwise he wouldn’t have followed him so far to do such a simple task without complaining first. Eddie keeps quiet and hopes he will too.  
They both get dressed, Stan folds his clothes as neatly as possible inside his bag, while Eddie, for a change, practically shoves them there. He was not present enough to care, but enough to see the stupid sandals that were previously hidden behind his swimming trunks. And his childhood towel. Fucking Richie.

He has a sudden urge to throw his things out somewhere far. Fuel up his arm and just throw them away, watch them hit a tree, break a branch, throw them again afterwards and punch-  
There’s a hand on his shoulder that startles him before Stan’s voice reaches his ears.

“Eddie…?”

Eddie realises that his knees are getting numb where they’re in contact with small twigs and dirt, hands frozen still while he was, previously, storing his clothes away. He’s losing himself to self-hate while he should be enjoying what could possibly be a good day. He’s already skipping school, why not use that for his advantage instead of mourning his regrets?  
He forces his shoulders to relax and stands up to face him. Stan wears a troubled expression, and Eddie knows what he’s about to ask. So, he smiles at him, small and shy.

“It’s nothing.” He tries to reassure him, but Stan deadpans. Eddie scratches his neck sheepishly. “Nothing that matters, at least. I’m just acting stupid.”

Stan’s grip on his bag strap tightens. “We can leave, you know?”

Eddie stays quiet for a while, runs a hand under his nose as a nervous habit and closes his eyes for a couple seconds. Those seconds seemed so much more. He inhaled the nature scent, heard the early birds flying above their heads, he even wanted to feel the dirt beneath the soles of his feet, but he had decided to keep his sneakers on until they were back to the group.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw Stan’s head tipped upwards. He followed his eyes to, obviously, a bird sitting on a branch. It was looking back at them. Its body was small, full of colors, mainly yellow, and Eddie could vaguely make out some sort of stripe pattern going on.

“It’s cute.” He said. Stan agreed with him with a hum.

“It’s a Cape May Warbler.” He spoke with interest.

“Of course it is.” Eddie chuckled good-heartedly while staring at the bird. “You’re an interesting person, Stanley.”

Eddie felt Stan’s eyes on him, now. “How so?”

“Many things, actually. But I wouldn’t expect you to change clothes mid forest, for example.”

“And I wouldn’t expect you to be against Richie putting on sunscreen.” The look on Eddie’s face is one of pure confusion, clearly oblivious. “That’s what he was bugging you about.” Stan explained further, which made Eddie feel like a moron.

They were silent for a while, before Stan suggested. “Are you good to go back, now?” Eddie nodded, and they made their way back while Stan distracted him with the names of birds that crossed their path.

The two of them knew they’d never get lost in these woods, but even if in doubt, they just had to follow the sounds, because the Loser’s club should be officially known by how much sound pollution they make. The closer they got to their spot, the louder their laughs and screams became. One would have thought they were partaking in a fight or some kind of battle, but once Eddie and Stan rounded the last row of trees that kept them hidden, they saw their friends in an apparently heated card game.

No one pays them much attention while they try to sit somewhere among the circle, if you could call it that. They were too far away from each other, enough that they had to toss the cards around and hope they landed somewhat in the middle.

Before approaching the circle too closely, Eddie took off the bigger bottle of sunscreen and silently made his way towards Richie. He placed it on his lap, whispering low enough so that no one else could hear it.

“I’m sorry.”

And then he distanced himself again from his friends, sitting on the previous rock, this time to untie his shoelaces. The game looked like it kept going, but it was quieter, and Eddie knew some of the attention was on him.

“You’re not gonna help a friend out and spread it on me?” Eddie turn his head to face Richie, hands still undoing the shoelaces. He saw Richie smiling at him, wiggling his eyebrows and shaking the bottle in his hand with an obscene gesture.

“Don’t push it.” He snarled playfully while toeing off the sneakers and pushing himself up afterwards. He stood up behind Mike, peering over his sitting position to look at the stack of cards between their circle. Richie’s eyes followed him, suspicion on the back of his head and worry settling on his chest.

“What if I win this round? Do I get a special treatment?”

Mike must have sensed the discomfort emitting from behind his frame, or maybe he just saw a good opportunity to intervene. “If I remember correctly, Stan still owes you a sweet revenge.”

_“Yikes.”_

_-_

The day was coming off smoother than Eddie expected. He had seated out for chicken fight, but other than that he was doing a great job at pretending to be at ease.  
They had partaken in a sand castle building contest, which should have been renamed dirt castle, instead. The ground up here was exactly that, dirty soil and dried leaves and what else lived deep in the waters. Stan stood out on that one, like every other activity that involved intense contact with anything remotely messy. Eddie even sat by his side in his ridiculously small towel until he was dragged down near the water to participate as well.

“We can’t have an odd number of players, Eddie.” Ben sweetly tried to convince him. Eddie went along, ending up having fun and even winning. His team, which consisted of Mike, Bill and him, did a poor job at assembling what looked like a tilted mountain with small twigs as windows and doors. But luckily (contestable) Richie, Ben and Beverly hadn’t even managed to get their castle up for more than seconds before it collapsed on its own.

This unfortunate event lead to a dirt fight, because somehow, when Richie stares at a pile of muggy soil, his first instinct is to stick both hands in it, curse when he scrapes a finger on a broken splintered twig, and then proceed to throw whatever he can grab with the worst aim in the world. It landed on Eddie’s midsection, spluttered all the way up to his chin, and the biggest portion of it fell on top of his team’s mud castle.

Everyone went silent for a while, Eddie slowly opened his eyes after the shock made him close them. Even Mike and Bill had some evidence on their bodies. Stan, sitting off to the side with a pen and a crosswords page ripped off a newspaper, whistled lowly once the silence continued.

“Your record is getting darker, Rich.” Meaning that he already had two people to get revenged by.

Richie opened his mouth, ready to apologize, but before anyone is capable of processing what’s happening, a smaller portion of dirt is flying off in Richie’s direction. It fell on the ground before it could actually hit him. Richie saw adrenaline swimming behind Eddie’s eyes, he wouldn’t say it was anger, it was just that it fuelled to Eddie’s frustration that he failed to hit him, and Richie noticed it. He slowly started to crawl forward, crouched in the middle between opposite teams.

“I’ll get a little closer, so maybe you can try ag-” But he didn’t have time to finish because this time Eddie throw harder, and better, and Richie’s face was covered in muddy sand. He had to spit out to clean his mouth, and remove his glasses, which left him looking like he had a facemask. Richie was trying his best not to give away a smile, seemingly that Eddie was biting a lip to prevent laughing. So, Richie put his acting skills to use and motioned Stan closer with two fingers. He looked so serious that Stan didn’t oppose. He settled the pen and crosswords aside, got up, and approached Richie, who simply handed him the ruined frames.

For a second, Eddie was worried and guilty for Richie’s glasses, maybe he’d get actually mad at him. But then, Richie, in his crouched knees, blinked up at a kneeling Eddie and moved forward like some kind of wild creature, jumping Eddie onto his back.

Eddie yelled, caught of guard as his back hit the ground while Richie started to just, tickle him and grab his wrists at the same time. It didn’t work very well for him of course. Eddie was laughing by now, but he kicked him off in an instant and before anyone saw it coming, a full-on fight was taking place.  
At some point, Mike started to run towards Stan, who had just screamed and begged to be left alone. But Mike couldn’t care less, dragged him by every part he could grab, arms, shoulders, legs (which earned him a kick do the chin followed up by a million apologies) and finally waist, a place that strangely earned him zero complaints and Stan just went along with it.

Now, Eddie could vaguely remember that he was being hit with probably bugs and mould or any other gross components of nature. The worries from previous hours got lost. He was just having fun, until Bev’s throw managed to touch his lips and teeth and that was the moment when he had to run off to the water and scrub himself for a total of thirty minutes.

Eventually, hunger started to hit, and everyone had to leave their mud cleaning process behind to get fuelled up with calories. Since Eddie couldn’t bring food with his mother watching, Mike didn’t turn around to go back and Stan’s parents would have made him explain why he was bringing extra food for the day, everyone just dumped their contributions together so that all of them could dig in to all sorts of unhealthy food.  
The sharing goes as far as sunscreen as well, some wiser minds remind others to re-apply every two hours or so. Luckily, Bev had been the one to notice Eddie struggling to apply lotion on his own back without asking for help, and she had happily done it for him.

All of this fed Eddie’s ease and brought him to the point of mostly forgetting his morning breakdown. The afternoon was close to be over, and the seven of them found themselves playing one last card game in their towels. The music had been tuned down to the lowest setting the radio allowed, and they were happily chatting on about everything that crossed a mind.

“Are you g-guys leaving suh-soon?” Bill asked after a break in their conversation. “School ended a while a-ago.”

It was Ben’s turn to play. “I told my mom I’d go to the library after school with some of you.” He said while going for the deck and drawing one card.

“My aunt knows better than to worry if I show up late. I’m good to stay.” Bev shrugged, her head resting on Ben’s lap. Her cards were well hidden, but she could easily see Ben’s. Not that he minded.

“I said something like Ben did to my mom.” Eddie added.

Mike said that he’d deal with his parents later, thank god for kind-hearted ones, while Richie remained quiet. No one looked at him expectantly, instead waited for Stan. His parents were harder to deal with. They, for a change, worried a lot and cared too much.

“I did tell them something about coming home later. They weren’t pleased.” He played with the corner of one card.

“I can get you home earlier if you want.” Mike offered kindly. Stan smiled at him but shook his head.

“It’s okay, I’ll deal with them later, too.”

After some agonizingly awkward seconds of their lingering gaze, Richie cleaned his throat to get the attention on him. “Do you guys want us to just… go?” He pointed behind his back with a thumb. A collective groan came.

“God, why’d you have to make everything weirder.” Bev rolled her eyes at him. Richie just shrugged with an innocent smile.

The sun was lower in the sky, everyone agreed to one final trip to the water, so, another card game was left unfinished while they headed off to cool themselves. Bev threw herself on Ben’s shoulders out of nowhere, and both ended close to fall face first in the shallow water. Everything seemed to be exactly the way it should.

 

-

 

“Are you seriously getting dressed right now?” Stan interrupted the peace and quiet of seven teenagers laying down to dry off as well as watching the sunset. Eddie turned to face him, Stan was on his back, propped up on both elbows and staring up at Bill, who was very much still wet and already shoving his shirt on.

“Why c-can’t I?” He asked through the fabric of the shirt.

“We were watching the sunset, you ruined the moment.” Mike added. He got up and started to dry himself up with the spare towel that Bill brought. Speaking of which, Bill was obviously confused and ready to oppose.

“Why does m-m-me getting dressed ruin the muh-moment?”

“It’s like an unspoken rule.” Ben added. “Once someone starts to get ready to leave, everyone will follow along.”

“It’s pure knowledge, Bill. How come the leader doesn’t know?” Bev jokes with him. Eddie didn’t know about the rule either, but it made sense.

“Well, then, b-blame Richie. He got uh-up first.” He nodded in the water’s direction. Eddie snapped his head back to look for him, intrigued. Richie had been awfully quiet for the last-

“What the fuck?” Eddie shrieked. Richie had his feet in the water, and apparently very interest in what he was holding in his hands. “Are those my shoes?!”

At the sounds of Eddie’s protests, Richie turns around with an honest funny grin. He holds the sneakers higher with his hand, dangerously above the water. “Sure are! Just thinking of ways I could get you to wear those sandals, Eddie Spaghetti!”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Richie.” Eddie got up and stomped his way closer, ready to retrieve his belongings, but Richie held a hand out between them.

“If you come any closer, I’m afraid I’ll drop them.” He shook his other hand, fingertips barely holding onto the shoelaces.

“You wouldn’t.” Eddie warned him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Stan approaching them.

Richie pouted, defeated. “Damn it, Eds. You know me too well.” He held the sneakers to Eddie who aimed to grab them immediately, but before he was able to get a hold on them, Richie was being violently pushed in the water by Stan.

Both Richie and Eddie screamed at the same time, but to no avail. Richie was already soaked, half of his hair dripping, and it was with great sadness that Eddie saw his shoes turn a darker shade from where they were currently swaying under water.

“That was for pushing me off a cliff.” Stan said. He was visibly regretting his actions, but at the same time he tried to stay put on the decision. His semi-concern ended once Richie began to laugh, still laying there with his right half in the water.

“Damn it, Stanley.” He started to push on his hands in order to get up. “Didn’t see that one coming, fuck. I was already dry.” That was when he saw one shoe floating near his feet. Richie bended down to pick them both up. “I don’t deserve to be blamed for this. Although I’m happy about it.” He smiled sheepishly, dripping sneakers hanging from his fingers.

Eddie ripped them away to himself, torn between killing Stan or Richie with his eyes. “You look ridiculous, by the way.” Then he stormed off to his towel once again, leaving a half straight-haired Richie behind.

-

Less than half an hour later, the losers found themselves making the way back to Mike’s truck, towels hanging over shoulders and damp hair out for the chill air. Richie was bragging on about how worthy it was to get thrown in the water if it meant that he could see Eddie wearing socks and sandals.  
Eddie, who had to carry his shoes home by the hand and wear the sandals on his feet, was less than happy about it. He had threatened to hit Richie in the face with one of his soaking sneakers, but the boy seemed unbothered, even offered to carry them for him.

When they reached the truck, Eddie didn’t question if he was supposed to be the one riding in the back with Richie. He knew he was, and if he were to contest about it in any way, there would be more unsaid questions coming his way, so he simply climbed in with the help of the back tire and sat down on the cold surface. His morning thoughts were starting to get to him again, he could use the distraction that came along with being around Richie.

Except that it didn’t come this time.

Mike started the truck once everyone was settled in, or out, and Eddie was surprised to find Richie’s quietness unsettling. Their sides were close but not quite touching, barely bumping each other every time the road got bumpier. Once more, the need to tear his skin away from himself was getting to Eddie, he was uneasy, he was reluctant, uncomfortable. They were silent all the way up to Bev’s dropout point, helping her out to get her bike down. Then they weren’t anymore.

“I’m sorry about your shoes.” Richie spoke lowly enough to call it a whisper once they started moving again. “You know I didn’t mean to.”

Almost releasing a relieved sigh, Eddie steals a glance his way, but Richie’s eyes are stuck somewhere among the pile of bikes in front of them. “I know, Rich.”

“And the towel.” He paused. “That one was on purpose.”

Eddie kept quiet, lost in thoughts.

“…Eddie, what’s wrong?” The air gets thicker, Eddie runs his finger underneath his nose and presses his lips together. “You seemed sad earlier. And you’re barely bothered by wearing sandals.”

“Really. That’s what gave me away?” He chuckled, tired underneath. “Maybe I should punch you for it.” His heartbeat was stammering against his ribcage.

Richie tried to straighten his legs forward, only to sit more awkwardly in the small space. His feet were digging onto a bike tire. “Maybe I’d be less worried.” Their eyes still didn’t meet. Eddie stared right ahead at the continuously minimizing street, Bev’s house far, far away by now.

Risking his chances, Eddie asked. “Why are you worried?”

 _Cause you look sad._ Richie thought. _I want to see you happy._ “No firecracker energy.”

“That’s just wrong.” Those words made Richie finally lay his eyes on Eddie. “I cut you off almost as soon as we got there.” There was a smile in Eddie’s lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m also sorry about that.”

“So, you told me.” Richie shrugged. “No biggie.” He ran a hand on the damper side of his hair, getting his fingers to look slightly shinier once they left his locks.

“What’s up with you, though?” The words left Eddie’s lips faster than he wanted. He didn’t want them to leave at all. “You’re acting weird.” Why can’t he stop talking?

Long legs bent up again, Richie hugged his knees and stared at the part of Eddie’s socks that hugged his calves. Eddie wanted to move, to make his gaze lay somewhere else. But he stood still.

Richie was fighting against his brain and mouth, which was just a normal occurrence for him. But this time, the thoughts that begged to be thought and the words that begged to be said were different, stronger.

 _I’m gonna tell him._ His mouth feels dry, like sand paper. _I need to tell him._

“Would you mind if I got out by your house?” Richie said instead. Eddie raised one questioning eyebrow, but he nodded anyway. Richie’s eyes were shaky without one definite place to focus on. Eddie noticed that his limbs seemed to be shivering, perhaps from cold. Richie was weird most times, but this? This seemed worryingly different.

Eddie didn’t need to wait too long to understand, for a few moments later, Richie would say the words that made his stomach flip hard enough to make him believe he’d throw up right then.

“I think we need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this considered a cliffhanger...?  
> ups
> 
> Thank you to everyone who keeps leaving comments and kudos <3 Love you all a whole lot
> 
> There's a new song on Rooftop's playlist for this chapter as well  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/ofg4o5cwm94og54mdqumlu5im/playlist/7g5bJiHkHUr9U8cPTP4XPz?si=gFOVHuVRRwmM1tDKh98rOw


	10. N.10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But there’s little Eddie could have done to avoid actions that weren’t his. Richie is free to act, and feel, and say. And Eddie is free to trap himself up in self-hate if it means being protected from everyone else's cruel opinions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry... I guess?

 

**_Monday 24.05.1993_ **

 

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck._

Every drop of blood left Eddie’s face.

“Talk?” He asked, suddenly dizzy. He wasn’t even surprised when his voice broke. Eddie also wasn’t really looking forward to whatever Richie opened his mouth to say right then, so he cut him off before he even had the chance to answer. “Sure, okay.” He shrugged. And Richie’s mouth successfully closed.

After that, Eddie turned his face around and pretended that things weren’t even slightly uncomfortable. The rest of the ride went by utter silent. And maybe the reason Eddie was gripping the side of the truck was so that he could bend over if his need to vomit actually ended up in the worst way.

_Fuck._

He isn’t dumb.  
Eddie had a feeling that, regardless of what Richie intends to say, their friendship will take a hit to the core. Both their hearts, too.  
The worst part, he dares to think, is that this is his fault. (Well, if he’s going to be honest, it’s both their fault.)

But there’s little Eddie could have done to avoid actions that weren’t his. Richie is free to act, and feel, and say. And Eddie is free to trap himself up in self-hate if it means being protected from everyone else's cruel opinions.  
He’d do anything. Eddie would back off, put a break on his stupid urges and feelings, if needed. He would get down on both knees and beg time to turn back.

_‘I’ll be good! I’ll be good! I promise I’ll stop, and I’ll stay away and I’ll be a better person. But please, don’t make me-’_

Anything, to prevent the damage altogether. Anything. Because if there’s one thing that haunts Eddie on a daily basis, it’s having to confront his true desires…

…is having to admit that those people’s words mirror who he is. Is having to accept that when his mom casually speaks about _those people_ with disgust, she is also talking about _him._ When they have dinner, when they’re coming back from church, or when they’re watching movies and she comments on certain actors she believes are… well… just like her son, after all.

But maybe he’s just reading into things the wrong way. There’s a chance that this ‘talk’ is about some stupid meaningless thing. Sure… He’ll hold on to that thought.

By his side, Richie kept his face buried in his arms, but Eddie didn’t want to think about what that meant. He didn’t want to think about anything involving Richie, either his words or actions, at all.

And deep down, Richie was questioning his own sanity. Why did he say that out loud? What had gone through his head in that moment? Seriously, why the fuck did he think, even for a second, that suggesting this would have been a good idea? He doesn’t know.

The only thing he was sure off, in that moment, was Eddie’s reaction to his words. He had looked scared and upset, and Richie caused it. Everything’s fucked up because, as usual, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

 _Hell …_ What is he supposed to do now?!  
Maybe he could…

_‘Hey, so, I’m head over heels for you. Yeah, there’s that. Maybe we could kiss for the next five hours or something?’_

Fucking ridiculous. But it’s not like he has a lot of time to think through his options.

There was a hard slap on the rear window that made both of them jump in their seats. They must have been distracted, (with enough reasons to…) because Richie just noticed that the truck had been parked by the sidewalk on Eddie’s street for the past 30 or so seconds.

Awkwardly, they helped each other take down their bikes. After saying their goodbyes and ignoring the smirks thrown their way for leaving together, which Richie would have been very eager for in other circumstances, they stood in the middle of the road watching the vehicle disappear at the end of the street.

They had been dropped off with a safe distance from Eddie’s house, so they had a short walk ahead of them.  
With the backpack hanging from one shoulder and both hands to guide his bike by his right side, ever so slowly, Eddie started to walk.  
Richie’s feet seemed to be glued to the ground for a second, but luckily, he managed to move slightly behind.

In the ten seconds that followed, he had gained courage to open his mouth twice, or more, but not enough to speak. There was no script, and he was lost. A punch to the face, it’s what he fucking deserves.

 _Just man up!_ He thinks. _Grow some fucking balls, Richie._ There was a tiny chance this could go smoothly…

“Fuck this.”

He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but the words seemed to echo in the empty street. Before Eddie could react, Richie grabbed his hand and turned him around less gently than intended. In the process of it, he had to let go of his bike and it dropped on the ground with a painful metallic scrape.

For a second, Eddie was quiet, stiff, startled, you name it. He struggled to turn around without stumbling over his own bike, but at the sight of a bright red Richie, he forgot all about it and let his right hand slip away from the handle. It fell on the asphalt behind him. Somehow, they were trapped closed together by their own bikes.

Eddie’s eyes were large, and he lowered his focus point to Richie’s shoulder blades. _Not here._ He thought. _Don’t do this here, Richie, you dumbass._

“Look at me, Eds.” Richie begged, voice just a little strained.

Eddie shook his head, breathing growing harsher and eyelids fluttering, trying to fight back the tears pooling in his waterline. He looked terrified. That’s how he felt, too. This all seemed a little too familiar, too much like that night outside of Mike’s barn.

Oh, how he regrets, now.  
That night, all the other times, everything before, in between or after… Wishes nothing had ever slipped between them and take them to this point. The no turning back point.

Richie squeezed his hand, feeling useless and guilty. It felt like there was a chestnut clogging up his throat when he opened up his mouth and nothing came out besides a squeezed whine. He didn’t plan this, he didn’t mean to do this under a darkening sky, completely out of nowhere. But now it was too late to call it a joke, wasn’t it?

Eddie’s hand felt completely limp in Richie’s hold. Painfully, Richie tried to swallow down the knot in his throat, and for a moment he could feel a painful heartbeat raging on his left temple. He had to bring his free hand up to his mouth.

“I think I might puke.” The words were mostly muted by his palm.

This revelation seemed to make Eddie break out of his frozen state. He squeezed Richie’s hand back, finally giving a sign of life.

“Are you serious?” His words were shaking. “Richie, I swear, if you ruin my second pair of shoes-”

That worked like a charm.

Out of nowhere, Richie started to giggle, maybe from nerves, maybe relieved that the tension was broke. He looked at Eddie fondly. The boy’s eyes were still shiny with tears, but his pale face was starting to grow some color.

“What’s so funny? Are you fucking with me?” Eddie spoke apprehensively. He took his hand away from Richie’s, breaking the contact. The action caused Richie’s smile to falter, but he was quick to recompose himself.

“No, not a joke. M’not fucking around.” His fingers took a longer time to stop inching towards Eddie’s wrist. “I’m trying.”

After a deep sigh in the lingering silence, Eddie started to scratch his own arm while looking around the street apprehensively.

‘ _Great.’_ Richie thought, heartbroken. ‘ _This is going just great._ ’

“No one’s around.” He tried to soothe Eddie. It wasn’t working, the boy gave no signs of listening, instead looking behind Richie’s back for any signs of a watcher. With a heavy sign, Richie took a step back and considered the option of pretending he had never said anything and just leave.

“I’m sorry, I-” Eddie’s eyes trailed everywhere, but they never once met Richie’s. “We should, maybe, talk inside?” It wasn’t meant to sound like a question, but it did come off that way. A very desperate, tired question.

That was when Richie’s heart kind of stopped. He was really starting to like the idea of going home, now.  
There are a million questions he wants to ask. About Sonia. About privacy. About how he’s about to fucking die if his words get stopped from being said one more time. In the end, he offered a simple smile and a shrug while bending down to get his bike off the ground.

“Might wanna change the sandals, Eds. Don’t want your mom to freak out.” He straightened his back as his shoulders shook with an ironic laugh.

_Wait until she spies on us or bangs the door open to find me sitting in your bed like a good boy._

Ironic, alright.

 

Eddie took the advice and sat on the sidewalk to change into his sneakers once again. They were still wet, would probably be for days, but maybe she wouldn’t notice the change in color. And if he took them out as soon as he passed the door…

For his own sake, Eddie kept thinking about his mom while they silently made their way to his front yard, which wasn’t really a yard, just dead grass at this point. They stopped at a safe distance from the front porch. Richie was mumbling things under his breath when Eddie turned around to stare at him with uncertainty.

Richie was a mere second away from saying:

 _‘You know what, Eds? It’s getting darker and I think I’m going now. Get back to my pops since he’s doing good today. This was just to mess with ‘ya’_.

Maybe he could even lock Eddie’s head under his armpit and mess up his hair like he used to do every day in middle school. That habit ended once Eddie claimed he’d get a hole in his skull if Richie kept it up, then Richie did it again and one of his knuckles was smudged pink.

It had terrified Richie, then, but Eddie seemed to be fine until he saw the evidence on Richie’s hand. After that, yeah, he had screamed and punched him, and Richie was mean enough to start shaking with laughter. He just couldn’t help it, the look on his face-

“I’ll meet you up in a moment.” Eddie announced before heading off to drop his bike closer to the house and get inside. Richie was left standing there with a stupid smile brought up by the memory.

A little lost, he kept staring at the back of Eddie’s head until the front door opened. That made him jolt awake and rush to go around the house and stand beneath his usual spot.

It took him a while to gather enough courage to climb inside.

 

-

 

When Eddie stepped inside, the first thing he did was to get his shoes off once again. He grimaced when he noticed that now his socks were stained wet, but he had a feeling his mom would be concerned about other things, because once he rounded the kitchen’s door frame, he laid eyes on the clock hanging from the wall. It was already seven.

“Hey mom.” He greeted her and tried to play it cool, walked into the kitchen to give her a kiss on the cheek. She seemed surprised. “Sorry I’m so late, what are you making?” Trying to keep the questions from coming, he put his attention on to the pots in the stove. “Smells good.”

Her face was strained, she wanted to complain, Eddie noticed. But he saw the moment she dropped it, with much self-control, and returned to her task of pouring salt in the rice. “Just chicken and rice, Eddie. For dinner.”

He nodded, switched his body weight to the other leg, and contemplated leaving her in the kitchen to go upstairs. But then he thought about Richie sitting in his bed, waiting for him. And Eddie couldn’t do it, he had to stall and buy some time, somehow.

“Do you need any help?”

Sonia’s working hands stopped for a second before she recomposed herself. “No need. Just tell me about your day, what took up your time, dear?”

So, that’s exactly what Eddie did. He sat by the kitchen table, damp socks on the cold tile, and filled her in on his day, lie by lie. And oh, how guilt consumed him. He was lying to his mom, feeding her with sweet talk. Lying to himself, by running away from things. And soon he’d probably be lying to Richie’s face, no matter which path the night took.

How did it come to this?  
Eddie couldn’t answer. But soon enough he was feeling like the worst person in the world. He blanked out from the conversation, a deadpan stare fixed on his mom’s large back, until he waited so long to answer one of her questions that she actually turned around.  
Her questioning eyes broke him off the internal monologue, and he quickly jumped to his feet and said he was going to hang around his room until she called him for dinner.

Sonia didn’t complain, and Eddie would have taken his sweet time to feel surprised if he wasn’t so nervous. He dragged his socked feet stair by stair, backpack straps loose around one wrist, and the pair of shoes hanging by the shoelaces on the other.

He was left staring at his closed bedroom door before making a last minute decision and heading off towards the bathroom, instead. As the professional liar he concluded to be just now, he told himself he needed to put the sunscreen back in its place, and stayed locked up for some extra ten minutes, instead.

 

-

 

It was funny, Richie supposed. Here he was, pacing the small floor area of Eddie’s room. A little over ten hours ago he had been here, doing the exact same thing. Pacing. And his heart had been the same, then, too. Racing.

Except that now the circumstances were way, way different.

After a bit of waiting that felt infernal, Richie could hear the faint sound of the bathroom’s faucet running. So that meant Eddie was also in the same place as he had been this morning.

See? Funny, he supposed.  
But he didn’t feel like laughing.

No, he felt like doing many things. None of them involved any sort of fun. He wanted to shout, maybe curse, jump the walls to waste some energy. Richie wanted to run away, but at the same time he couldn't, neither he wanted. He supposed, that’s we does best these days, assuming things.

The truth was, deep inside, Richie wanted more than ever for this to go the right way, but he knew that that wasn't the most likely outcome. Something ought to go wrong even if the day had been so perfect.

Deep inside he wanted Eddie to walk through that door, the one he’s staring at, terrified, and he wanted to hug the shit out of that boy. Pull him close against his chest and tell him how much he feels, how much more he could feel, how much he needs to have him, how much he wants to kiss him, how much he wants many things more, everything he’s allowed to.

And deep inside, Richie also knew that none of that would happen.

Most likely, a lot of things would have to change. The things he wants and already has. Like sleepovers and friendly hugs. And a good friend of many years. A friendship between two boys who want the same things but have different ways of dealing with that.

But it's not like Richie knows that, yet.

He had to entertain himself somehow while Eddie didn’t come. He settled by pacing around the room some more, feeling his heart racing sickly against his chest some more, as well as going through Eddie’s desk, and shelves, and boxes, and discarded clothes (not that there were many) and the stupid shelves again, because he saw the collection of stupid comics they both read together growing up. Richie did this because he could. Because he knew Eddie didn’t mind. And honestly, if he's wasn’t busy doing this he would have been hiding underneath the bed and wondering if, that way, he could escape the reality of his nightmare.

He was about to flip open one of the comic books, the one he remembers being Eddie's favorite, when the doorknob turned, and he felt his heart stop.

Not racing, not hurting, not about to break his ribcage in half as if it expected some kind of garden to grow out of it. Out of his broken chest. No, this time his heart felt calm, beating yet peaceful, because everything that has ever happened has come to this. And this was the moment Richie realized how tired he truly felt. The moment Eddie walked through that door, looking somewhat disheveled, was also the moment Richie saw his life for the past years flashing before his eyes. But not in a bad way, not in the way people say it happens when you die. It felt more like being born. coming to this world again. Simply realizing how much he felt, suffered, and lied for so long. How much he hid himself from the world, from his parents, from his friends, from Eddie, who was a friend but could be so much more, and from himself.

He wasn't ashamed of what he felt, he was almost proud. Because out of everyone Richie has ever known, Eddie was the best person to have fallen for. And what else could he feel besides grateful?  
It wasn’t about the cheesy love and what comes with it. It was about doing something he needed, and Richie was finally able to put the fear of rejection behind and accept whatever came to him. Good or bad. He was certain that, at least, peace would flow through his body for spilling out the truth.

Even if it meant being pushed away. Even if it meant many worse things he didn’t want to think about.

“Hey.” He said, low in the badly illuminated room. “How’s your mom?”

“Richie, please.” Eddie warned before gently closing the door behind himself, dropping his stuff on the ground and taking some uncertain steps towards nowhere in specific.

“Sorry.” Richie, who was still close to the shelf, put the comic book back in its place and turned around from the wall to face Eddie, who was now leaning against the dresser. Too familiar. “It was a genuine question.”

“Oh, okay.” Eddie started to play with his fingers. “She’s been good, calm for now.”

The boys stood in silence while Richie kept fidgeting in place, just shifting his weight from one leg to the other until accepting the awkwardness that was inevitably going to stick around.

There was a dry chuckle coming from the other side of the room that made him look up to look at a crossed-arm Eddie, visibly uncomfortable. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” With a shrug, Richie moved to sit on the foot of the bed, leaving them facing each other. “I was the one who wanted to talk.”

Eddie asked, quietly. “So… Will you?” He wished the answer was no.

Richie took a big gulf of air and stared at the floor near Eddie’s feet. “I don’t know how to say it.” Then he rubbed his palm over his knuckles harshly and placed both feet on a part of the bed-frame that was exposed, bending his knees to get more comfortable. “Look, Eds-”

“You don’t need to say anything.” Almost too quickly, Eddie interrupted, wishing that it didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

Richie furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and stared up at Eddie instead. “Yeah, but that’s… that’s kind of the point, you know? I wanted to talk…”

As if it was the most natural action, Eddie rolled his eyes and sighed. It made Richie’s stomach turn in an unpleasant way. “Richie, listen-”

“No, Eds. You listen.” He was kind of aggressive about it, to the point where Richie thought Eddie would reprehend to be quiet. But Eddie must have lost his sanity, then, because he practically screeched back.

“I don’t _fucking_ want to.” And maybe it was just Richie feeling overall vulnerable at the moment, but he could only hear venom in it. Usually, he could see when Eddie was being cruel on purpose, as if he wanted to get away with being mean. Richie is familiar with it, with Eddie being unkind just because that’s how he learned to deal with things. But Richie was always able to see past that and catch the true emotions behind Eddie’s façade. This time, however, he sensed the hatred, nothing else, and as much as he wanted to believe there was more to it than that, maybe masking, or fear, Richie couldn’t help but think that he was a truly detestable person, and that, now, Eddie wanted nothing more than to see him gone.

This whole realization took him some time. Richie gaped, and stared, and bit his lips to prevent his jaw from shaking. “Was it… was it something I did?” Eddie’s face softened. “Did I say something?” Richie sounded broken.

As if he couldn’t take it anymore, Eddie buried his face in his hands and shook his head at the same time. “No.” He whined just before dragging his hands through his face and letting them drop. “I’m sorry, Rich. Fuck, I am.”

“Well then, what’s going on?” Richie asked with exasperation at this point. The adrenaline rushing through his body at the moment had him getting up again and walking slightly closer.

Suddenly looking rigid again, Eddie squared up his shoulders and locked eyes with Richie. “I should be the one asking you that.” He was calmer, but serious. “You throw a fucking bomb at me and now you’re stalling and-”

“So, do you want to hear me or not?” Richie asked, genuinely confused.

“God, no.” Eddie couldn’t have helped it. It just slipped off his lips before he had the chance to encourage Richie on.

With a dry chuckle, Richie threw his hands in the air. “Not a good fucking clue, Eds. You don’t want to hear me, but you want me to spit things out. Where does that leave me?” Richie had to tone his voice down in order to say the words out in a harsher way. God only knows how much he feels like shouting right now. He’s not mad with anyone, he’s just tired and disoriented and frustrated.

“I don’t know, okay?” Eddie opens his mouth three times before finding the right words. “You’re right, I don’t want to hear any of it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“About _what?_ ” _God_ , Richie is going crazy.

“You know what. Don’t play dumb on me, Rich.” Eddie snarled.

“Okay, so. You don’t want to talk about _that_ , what do we do, then? Keep on this stupid chicken game?” Richie took another step further before freezing in the middle of the second one. He should not have said that.

Eddie looked everywhere else but at him. “Well at least that settles it, then.”

Richie can’t quite speak, so he just stares hopelessly and dumbly while his throat squeezes out questioning whimpers. Eddie seemed to catch on.

“Just a stupid chicken game, right?” He shrugged before detaching his body from the dresser and rounding Richie’s body to go open the closet. Richie watched him, helpless, while it seemed like he was choosing out a pyjama set. Richie had a feeling he was only doing it to look busy and nonchalant, but his thoughts were pushed away when Eddie started speaking again. “How about this: you win, Rich. Now you don’t have to worry about me throwing another move at you.”

Okay, well, _fuck._ He was not expecting that. He’s a little lost. “Is that what you think I want, you dumbass?”

Eddie’s hands kind of stopped mid action. He turned around, taken aback. “Now you’re insulting me??”

If you had asked him, with some time in advance for prior thinking, Eddie would have told you that _the_ moment would have been at least gentler. More conscious, because, honestly, he didn’t see it coming.  
Maybe less aggressive. And he would have been used to the feeling of Richie’s breathing hitting his skin. But instead, he didn’t even have time to breathe beforehand.  
Eddie was sure that Richie was about to knock him out with a punch or a push, and he even squared up and got ready to embrace the impact. Because what else would he think at the sight of a visibly shaking Richie, red faced, red necked, advancing at him at full speed with both hands turned into fists in front of him?

It certainly wasn’t that those fists would grasp his shoulders and pull him forward. It certainly wasn’t that Eddie would be subconsciously okay with it and allow Richie to throw himself at him with such abandon that they’d end up knocking chins and shoulders and foreheads and suddenly, lips and teeth.

It would be considered the most awful kiss for anyone else. If it even could be called a kiss. Eddie had his eyes open, as well as his mouth, that was parted from talking and harsh breathing. He had been ready to be pushed straight into the closet door, but instead he was embraced in the most agitated, needy, desperate and violent grip that was overflowing with love and affection. Eddie only grasped the loving part of it in the last second, after Richie’s lips caught his upper lip only, and after Eddie’s teeth rubbed against Richie’s closed mouth.

It did feel like love. And it looked like it. Eddie had been left cross-eyed to stare at Richie’s fluttering eyelids. He could almost taste the nerves through their barely touching mouths. It was totally off-centred, sloppy, unplanned and unexpected. It didn’t last more than two seconds. It was enough to blank Eddie’s mind.

Richie sort of pulled away and tried to get closer at the same time. He kept his eyes closed, kept gripping Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie kept studying this weird boy in front of him while finally having a taste of what it was like to have Richie’s puffs of air hitting his mouth and nose.

It was intoxicating.

And then Richie started crying, Eddie could see the beginnings of a panic attack creep up on him.

He would have, later, blame it on his empty mind, slightly dozed off from the surprise factor of this whole thing, but he did what he thought was best in that moment. Carefully, Eddie inched his right hand up. Brushed his fingers over the pale skin on Richie’s arm, over the fabric of the shirt, then the collar. Caused a goose bump to break on the surface of Richie’s neck from the way Eddie gently scrapped his nails there, which almost made him giggle. And then he settled his hand on the back of Richie’s head and pulled him forward at the same time as he tilted his own head to the right to try and do his best at this whole kissing thing that had been a mystery to him up until 10 seconds ago.

Richie must have been too surprised to keep crying, because they kissed, and kissed, and got lost in themselves for longer than Eddie should have allowed. But as the big fool he is, Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off of Richie, and Richie just kept on deepening the kiss to point Eddie never imaged he would ever get to experience in his life.  
It was different than what he expected it to be, kissing, that is. Lips on lips, the way that felt, how hot it is (in terms of temperature). It was very warm and wetter than what he would have liked, it was overwhelming and intrusive. His lungs felt empty, probably were, because he couldn’t breathe enough air in between the milliseconds where they’d part only to collide again in a different angle.

Richie’s hands were everywhere, kept changing from the back of Eddie’s neck to sides of his face only to travel backwards again, and lower, lower, lower. Until they settled on the small of his back, close to his hips, and Richie just kept applying pressure to somehow bring them closer, as if he could make them merge into one. Eddie wasn’t against it.

Until he was.

Until a long lost thought, old and supposedly forgotten, crept up his spine and filled his empty brain with it. After that, there was only one thing Eddie could think about.

_I’ll blow you for a quarter, Eds._

It felt like burning deep within his chest, so much that it drove him crazy enough to push Richie away. He watched for a moment as Richie stumbled backwards, confused, hurt, scared.

_I’ll do it for a dime…_

_I . . . I don’t have a dime._ His brain shouted back.

He tried to fight back the images of rottenness and sickness while sobbing out an apology. “I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry Richie.” He hiccupped and took both hands to cover his mouth while shaking. “I’m not- I can’t. I can’t be this way.” His voice was hoarse, abused.

The words hang in the air, left them both stoned in place, just staring at each other in silence while they tried to catch their breaths. Eddie expected Richie to cry, if he was being honest, but he just stood there, out of breath and looking sort of dead.

_Come back here, kid!_

Another thought of death chasing Eddie up had him squeeze his hands harder against his mouth.

Then Richie shrugged, stared at the window, and mumbled out weak words, almost as if he was regretting what he hadn’t yet said, but would anyway. “I think you need help, Eddie.”

Eddie inhaled sharply, feeling deeply ashamed.

_I’ll blow you for free…_

“Not anyone else’s help…” Richie added. He sounded small, ridiculed. They locked eyes one last time. “Find yourself, alright?”  

Before Richie could move to leave, Eddie bolted out of the room. The words kept echoing in his skull for the next twelve minutes he spent forcing himself to throw up, locked away in the bathroom to put off having to leave and face the woman who was probably the main reason everything around him felt damaged.

He stared, helplessly, at his own reflection, his true self. Washed out face,

 _liar_ ,

faded lips,

 _coward_ ,

and purplish veins lining the thin skin of his eyelids.

 

 

_Find yourself, alright?_

He would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I never wrote a kiss scene before? Yikes, excuse me for that  
> Also, can you tell this was always my original plot but that I'm not liking it anymore?
> 
> And you know, sorry for the whole... making chapters end on a bad note all the time....
> 
> Have I mentioned how grateful I am for all the lovely comments and support I get for this work? <3


	11. N.11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie studied her intensively that dinner. Looking at the lines mapping her face and wondering: What makes us different?
> 
> What defined you own me? What defined you’re right and I’m wrong? 
> 
> Nothing defined it. That’s the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost 2 months since I updated ........... I feel bad about that.  
> On a better note, March also marks 1 year since I first started writing Rooftop!! I was on Biology class and well, something clearly hit me. I didn't have any plans to post anything, but here I am...
> 
> ...delivering chapter N.11, a.k.a, the worst thing I've ever written in my entire fanfic career  
> I was really close to delete this whole chapter and coming up with a way of continuing the plot without it, but here it is now
> 
> I want to thank @constantreaderfool because she became a very good friend (and personal english teacher!) who is always there to motivate me <3 
> 
> If you're still reading this, this chapter's song is 'Happy Accidents' by Saint Motel, I really recommend listening closely to the lyrics  
> Rooftop's playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/ofg4o5cwm94og54mdqumlu5im/playlist/7g5bJiHkHUr9U8cPTP4XPz?si=Qs_0vgabT8uEWjOl1BcvAQ

****

_**Monday 24.05.1993** _

Monday night could be described with simple words: a mess.

Richie was shaking way too hard to get a firm grip when climbing down, and his eyes were still too watery to make out the exact spots he should have stepped on. As a result, he ended up losing balance and having a bad landing, bending his ankle slightly and falling on his ass in the middle of the Kaspbrak's backyard.

His breathing was off, accelerated and wheezy. Richie wondered if that was any close to what Eddie goes through.

_It hurt, it hurt it hurt it hurt._

He grasped at the front of his shirt with one hand and lifted the other up to cover his mouth.

_He kissed Eddie._

Slowly, whimpering and hiccupping, he lifted himself off the ground and limped his way to retrieve his bike from the grass, not even bothering to wipe off the dirt from his clothes.  
Richie couldn't trust himself to ride, so he took rushed steps home, bike by his side. With a swirling, distracted brain, he hoped that no cars would come crashing onto him, for he had no capacity to look out for any incoming danger.  
By the time he got to his street, his tears had dried, his ankle stopped aching, but his chest remained alerted and alive. A mess.

Luck didn’t seem to be on his side, as if that wasn't already obvious. Richie got home safely, at least, and he was looking forward to… well, maybe to drown in his loud thoughts for the night. Sue himself for crying. Think about the horrible consequences of what he did. Anything, really, rather than what actually happened.

Before he could reach his bedroom door, a heavy hand settled on his shoulder and dragged him into the kitchen, where he was forced to sit at the table, dinner served, with both his parents staring expectantly at him. As if they accomplished something amazing and needed their son’s approval.

Richie’s eyes were, without a doubt, still bloodshot, puffy the least. The shaking was bad, too. He couldn't draw a line between trying to act normal or freaking everyone out.

"Is it Christmas, already? What a lovely family reunion." He licked his lips, they tasted salty.

"Richard." His mom, _(Wow, his mom!)_ glared at him, before laying a hand on top of his. Richie stared down at her skinny fingers on top of his, ringless for once. _Seriously_ , the way he was shaking was preoccupying. He retrieved his hand to himself with the excuse to start eating.

"Bueno appétit." He said through an obviously forced smile.

 

 

The meal was close to be over by now and everything still felt weird, unreal. Their voices were far, but there, the food was tasteless. He couldn't control his own body, moving on its own to grab the fork and wrap around a glass of water.

_I kissed Eddie._

He was torn out of his inner battle by a heavy slap against the wooden table. Then a sigh. The water in his cup trembled, and Richie related to it.

"Are you on something, Richie?" His dad's voice stopped him from getting the fork to his lips, took Richie a few seconds to let it sink.

_…He thinks you’re drugged._

Slowly, Richie put the fork down and stared at the two foggy figures in front of him. He wanted to scream.

 _Look at them, looking at you. They think you've lost it, they think you're an addict. They think you're gone, lost._  
They must love you, that's how it works.  
They must love you. 

_Right?_

The two figures became less human, the food started to lose its scent, too.

_They think you're a freak._

_Eddie pushed you away._

Richie laughed, ran a hand over his hair, scrapped his chair on the floor while getting up.

He didn't hear his own laughs, he didn't hear the chair, he didn't command his body to get up.  
He didn't command his mouth, either.

"I really must fucking be!” He exclaimed enthusiastically.

He left the kitchen, then. Didn’t hear any protests, didn’t feel the ground under his feet as he padded his way down the hallway towards the bedroom. The door shut behind him.

Richie heard it close.

_-click-_

Richie thought back to a few hours ago, when he had woken up and been so sure that the day was a promise of a good one. And despite all the events that just happened to him, to them, despite the way he was feeling right now, at the end of the day, there was one thing he could be sure of.

Eddie kissed him back.

 

-

 

It’s been nine minutes since Eddie had to sit down for dinner after being kissed. Which shouldn’t be something worth mentioning, or thought of, because people do that all the time. A lot of kissing happens everywhere, all the time.

But not for Eddie, no. But once again, it’s not every day that you push away the person who kissed you because you were hit with an image of… of?

Eddie searched and searched, and nothing came up. But it was probably due to the rollercoaster of emotions hitting the sides of his skull from the inside. Or because he was distracted looking at his mom's face while she ate. It was sort of disturbing, but he’s gotten used to it by now.

 _Oh, right!_ A demon clown masked as a rotting hobo who also happened to offer him blowjobs in forgotten dreams. And recurring memories, apparently.

Eddie felt the poor amount of food he managed to eat slowly inch up his throat. He gulped it down with more peas.

There was an image stuck on Eddie’s brain. And it was Richie, the moment he burst into tears after their lips separated. Later, Eddie would learn to connect to that feeling. For now, he feels extremely worried and guilty and sad, because when Richie cried Eddie felt like the world needed to stop until he could prove to him how much he’s worth.

Eddie tried to push these thoughts away, at least during dinner, because he couldn’t afford another confrontation with his mom about anything at all. So he had to look as normal as he could from the outside, which was possibly the hardest thing he ever tried to accomplish while his brain was filled with Richie.

His scent, like the quarry’s water; his warm skin, heated by the sun all day long; his revolted eyes filled with emotions Eddie couldn’t comprehend, yet; his touch, desperate, needy, welcomed; his lips, as full as Eddie as ever seen them, as pretty as Eddie ever thought of them to be; his tears.  
They weighted more than Eddie could have ever carry. But now he had to, for he was the one who caused them.

It was a stupid assumption, but Eddie was _absolutely_ sure his mom knew about what he did. As if he had the evidence slapped on his face. Maybe he had, actually.

Do people change after kissing for the first time?

He studied her intensively that dinner. Looking at the lines mapping her face and wondering: _What makes us different?_

_What defined you own me? What defined you’re right and I’m wrong?_

Nothing defined it. That’s the answer.

 _You don’t own me. You’re not right. I’m not wrong._ (If only he could believe that.)

The way he is shouldn't harm anyone, unless people are consuming hate for every meal. Much like Eddie has been doing since he can remember. Much like he was doing right now.

He stared down at his barely touched plate. As an excuse, he told his mom he ate just before coming home, which she wasn’t happy about.

_She feeds you hate, you feed her lies. It goes the other way around too, doesn't it?_

Eddie didn't want to answer.

 

_**Tuesday 25.05.1993** _

It was very late, Richie needed sleep and he should have been in bed for a long time, by now. But he couldn't.

Yes, it was late, but time had no voice when it came to a swirling mind hit with a wave of inspiration.  
It was more forced than hit, actually. He needed to get things done as soon as possible, that entitled forcing his eyes to stay open and his hands to work faster than his thoughts could be generated. Which was already _pretty_ fast, believe it.

And inspiration might even be the wrong term, also. Richie didn't have a lot of that, he had the full living experience. That’s what got the words flowing.

 

Today was a silent nightmare at school, a poor attempt at pretending nothing had happened between them. Or more like processing what happened quietly to themselves until the right time came around, or until they went insane. Richie was close to crossing that line.

Around this time of the school year, some teachers ended classes a little bit earlier, which made the whole “avoiding one-on-one contact” thing easier.

But Richie was pretty sure everyone knew something was up, anyway. Yesterday they were in the best mood possible, and their friends saw him leaving with Eddie. It wasn't too hard to figure out why both of them looked like they hadn't slept for a year, nor smiled. Even if their giggles had been painting the quarry less than 24 hours ago. (Not that Richie knew if Eddie looked as miserable as he did, neither of them stared at each other once.)

That was the reason, Richie suspected, Bev cornered him after school was over and stopped him from going home to mourn alone.

Richie spent the whole afternoon in her company, walking mindlessly trough the streets of Derry while she tried to get him to talk. He was grateful to have her, really, but he wasn't in the mood to talk about what happened, yet. He simply told her they argued, which was only half of the whole truth.  
Bev dropped it for the moment, and they talked about other stuff. About her aunt, her house life changes, about stupid things and whatelse. It wasn't until they were sharing a slice of lemon pie from Derry's local diner that she dropped a bomb on him, or something close to that.

“We should play some of your originals next time.”

The suggestion had Richie dropping a fork for the second time in less than two days.

They were, indeed, planning on having a second party this week as well, because, why not? It was a success, and everyone enjoyed themselves.

“Something about relevant people in your life.” Bev specified.

Yup. There it was.

She was hinting at him singing dopey love songs, or something. Maybe she thought that he’d come up with a great way of relieving his deepest sorrows surrounding Eddie through heartfelt songs.

The thing is, Richie didn't want to do that, and even if he did…

Most of his originals were left unfinished, his quick-thinking brain spat out half a song and then decided "Well, that's enough sharing for a day." Also, more importantly, they were all about his insecurities, about himself, about the non-great side of carrying a life as Richie Tozier.

He didn't have it in him to write about anything else.

He never wrote a song about those kinds of feelings, or Eddie. And there’s boundaries, for Christ’s sake. ‘Hey, Eds. You just rejected me and I couldn’t take it, so here’s a song I wrote about you.’ Yeah, sure.

He didn't turn her down, instead, he asked. “Do we have enough time for something like that?"

A long argument and a few lemon bites later, they met in the middle. The party would be put off to Saturday night, and in return Richie would bring them some originals to test out next afternoon. That meant a single day away.

So, when Richie got home today, he had no choice but to go through the few pages filled over the last years with shitty lyrics, trying to find some that he didn’t hate as hard as others.  
He spent the rest of the day changing some things, making them better and coming up with melodies for the ones he forgot or the ones he didn't like enough. He hadn't look at the clock yet, but he felt the need to rest weighting on him.  
There wasn't really a point in going to bed if he’d just stare at the blackness of the insides of his eyelids. That’s what happened last night, and he knew it wouldn't be much different this time.

At some point, he wondered if there would be a dinner served table today, but he suspected that yesterday was a once in a lifetime occurrence. (That didn’t go that well, to be fair.)

His hands were smudged from the pencil-written words, a headache was starting to grow form, but he knew he wouldn’t leave this unfinished. Now, he stared at the paper sheets scattered in front of him. A sigh left his tired body, reminding him of the dull throbbing forming in the small of his back.

It’s been one day; Richie tried not to feel too guilty. So far, he was failing.

 

-

 

It was late, Eddie was in bed trying desperately to fall asleep, but it wasn't working so far. His brain was incapable of shutting off for a minute, always screaming back to himself and indulging in useless lectures and self-advice that he knew he would never act upon.

He tossed aggressively around in his bed, angry at himself and needing a way to push all of the hateful energy out of his body.

It’s been one day. A single, miserably long day. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about it. He tried really hard, but it was there in the back of his mind at any time of the day.

Giving him little nudges in the shoulder: _Hey, so… Richie kissed you._

Flicking his forehead: _You kissed him back, by the way._

Like shoulders bumping in a hallway: _You liked it, don’t deny it._

It was honestly fucking exhausting. The worst one so far had happened while he was trying to focus on the words on the board of his philosophy class.

It felt more like his chair disappeared from under his body: _You pushed him away, you dumb fuck. Nice move, jerk._

He felt stupid and awful and guilty for the way Richie was left, confused. Eddie was so goddamn angry with himself.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

Today, there were actual times when he had to sit down and think back to the moment. The reason why he pulled away from Richie’s touch was mostly a complete blur, again. Yet, he knew there was something beyond his usual worries, because one thing he knew for sure was that _not even once_ did it cross his mind how wrong it was to kiss another boy while he was doing it.

Eddie had to grab his hair strongly and really focus on _the thing_. And even then, the leper’s image and voice were so faded and weak that he couldn’t be sure if it was that that led him to feel burnt, anymore.

It’s been long since the leper encounter. Eddie wouldn’t say he forgot, but he certainly didn’t spend a second thinking about it, anymore. It was scary how quickly it faded from his brain if he wasn't purposely dragging it back.  
This was a fight against himself. Eddie didn't want to remember, but he couldn't forget. Richie deserved an explanation, and Eddie started to believe that by the time he felt ready to give it to him, he wouldn't remember again.  
He didn't know if he should be grateful or not. Which was worse? Forgetting or being haunted?

The forgetting itself haunts him, still.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie threw the single sheet covering his body to the feet of the bed, battled with it for a while when it got tangled on his ankle, and got up, defeated. With a locked jaw and a tense neck, he strode up to the mirror standing on top of his dresser, and even with the shitty lighting, he studied his restless reflection. It stared right back at him.

 _‘What have I done?_ ’ He groaned internally. He fucked it all up…

Eddie tried, in vain, to spit something out, anything. The silence was deafening, a soft buzzing mushing his brain. He had to do this, the first step was this, right here.

He stared at his mouth, but all it did was remind him of  Richie’s.

Go on, do it. Say it.

But nothing came and no words formed. Only pictures and colors and emotions that he couldn’t name or put into words. They didn’t feel nice.

Eddie placed his elbows on the dresser and dropped his face on his hands for a few exasperating seconds before looking up to the mirror again.

He lost count of the minutes that passed, each of those suffocated him more and more until he gave in to his weak knees and had to sit down on the floor. His blurry eyes focused on the dark handles his mom had picked out when she bought him the dresser. They had soft edges, to prevent kids from getting injured. She had said-

He couldn't do this.

Everywhere he looked, there was always something to remind him of the things that could go wrong if he ever accepted who he was.

Especially in that mirror.

 

 

_**Wednesday 26.05.1993** _

 

"I can't believe how fucking great these are."

For a moment, Richie was confused. The words were definitely something Beverly would say, but it was actually Mike who spoke. In fact, Bev hadn't said anything at all since Richie passed them his drafts filled with awful handwriting.

"Yeah? You think so?" Richie, who was sitting on their famous red couch staring at his two friends leaning against the stage's side, finally looked up to Mike's face expectantly.

"Yeah, man! You have talent, Rich." To that, Richie smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck, not really sure how to react.

He adverted his attention to Bev. From the corner of his eye he saw Mike doing the same. She had a conflicted expression, eyes locked in the papers she was holding.

"You do have talent, Richie." She then moved away from the stage and kneeled down in front of him, putting the papers slowly to the side and hugging Richie around the waist, his knees between their bodies.

"Aw, Marsh. You're getting all sappy for me here?" He held her back, anyway, no one wanted to refuse a hug from their favorite read-head.

Mike chuckled light-heartedly. "Your words moved our girl."

"Shut up." Bev's voice came muffled from Richie's shirt before she detached herself from him and sat down on the left side of couch, instead. She picked up the paper sheets again. "It's not my place to ask this, Rich. But this..." She handed him the top sheet, Richie accepted it and quickly realised which song it was. He cut Bev off before she got the chance to speak.

"I know, it's not like that."

"We love you, Richie."

"I know, it's not like that, I swear." He repeated. "I know how you guys feel about me. This is just…” _how I feel about myself._ He finished the sentence to himself.

"But what you wrote... it sounds..."

"Yeah, it does." He chuckled poorly. "But it's not about-, at least not just that… it's-" He sighed. "Please, don't take it at heart... I didn't mean to-"

"We know. I just needed to make sure you know how much you mean to us, okay?"

Mike sat at his other side. Richie stared at his knuckles for pure entertainment.

"You do mean a lot to us." Mike said, it was something more in tune with his usual comforting words. It made Richie smile.

"My words moved you, too, uh?” He scratched his wrists mindlessly. “You guys mean a lot to me, too. I’m sorry the song sounds so... harsh?"

"I think it sounds the way it should." Bev put an arm around his shoulders, Mike mimicked her actions from the other side. "It sounds like you feel, or felt, when you wrote it."

Mike rubbed random circles on Richie's shirt. "And we can make it justice, now. Together."

In that moment, Richie thought of saying something. Or everything.

That he couldn't hide the way he felt for Eddie anymore, that he was sick of pretending, and tired. That Eddie drove him crazy when he showed off any signs of possibilities that never had a title. That Richie did something reckless on Monday, something that felt incredibly right but wrong at the same time. That he had been feeling guilty over it because he didn't want to push things further than they should be pushed, and that all he could think of was the need to apologise. That things could have gone differently. That maybe it would have worked out better. That he was going nuts without knowing what to do, if he should even do anything besides waiting.

That he needed to talk.

Instead, he said.

"Shall we start a real practice, my trustful comrades?"

 

-

 

Spending time with his mom was just as bad as he remembered. The only difference was that when he was younger, Eddie didn’t know why he felt so weird when he spent afternoons in her presence, now he does. He simply hates it.  
They had already watched three episodes of some unknown baking show, and Sonia was in total bliss that her son was spending his time at home with her, for once. Eddie was so bored that he even pretended to have homework, but even then, his mom begged him to do it next to her, so he’s been doing English exercises that he had already done before. It’s not like he would have gotten any real work done, with her constant comments about the contenders’ clothing choices or physical aspects.

Eddie supposed it was his own fault that he was stuck at home. He put himself there. Instead of choosing to hang with any of his friends, he had actually chosen to come home, not really sure of what he was expecting from that decision.

After the fourth verbal attack to some woman’s lipstick choice, Eddie not so subtly groaned and tossed his head back against the couch. He actually thought it was a nice shade of purple…  
His mom stared at him from her recliner.

“Sorry, ma. I can’t really understand this part, I think I’ll go to my bedroom for a while to be more focused.”

She started to say something about tutoring classes, and for his own sake, Eddie blocked it all out before kissing her cheek and rushing to the stairs. He thought about kicking his door open but settled for opening it like a regular human being. Instead, he tossed his pencil case straight into the mirror when he passed it, purposely ignoring the possibilities of it breaking before launching himself onto his bed dramatically. He groaned onto the bed covers.  
Curiosity won him over after a few seconds. Eddie lifted his head and bent his neck just enough to check for any possible damage on the mirror. There wasn’t any, so he let his head fall back on the sheets, now having his left cheek pressed upon them.

He sighed and allowed himself to rest upon the comfortable silence, but his eyes betrayed him when they slowly drifted upwards and settled on one of his pillows.

For a second, a sudden thought of kissing it for practice attacked his mind out of nowhere. Eddie felt himself grow red, quickly feeling stupid and wanting to throw that same pillow on that same mirror for no other reason than because he hated both those items.

“Great, now I hate myself _and_ my stuff.” He mumbled, annoyed.

He turned his body around so that he could be staring at his white ceiling. Unwittingly, Eddie started to relive their confrontation right in front of his eyes, in this exact room. And he couldn’t help it but picture it if things have followed a different path. If he hadn’t pulled away, left running. If he had said something nicer, truthful. If his past hadn’t come to haunt him on the worst possible moment. It would have been so much better, but that’s all there is to it. These things only happen in his head, in his fantasies. But he decided to feed into these helpless wants and kept on imagining how things would have turned out if he kept kissing Richie.

Eddie closed his eyes, for once, he felt relaxed in the dark that it created. It wasn’t long until he felt himself drifting into a well needed nap.

 

 

_**Thursday 27.05.1993** _

 

"So, how long are we going to pretend nothing's going on?" Stan asked.

All of them were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. Bill had just asked them if anyone wanted to come over after school, to which Eddie and Richie quickly jumped in to refuse, speaking at the same time and so fast that the others needed a second to understand what they'd said.

"Sorry, I have plans with my mom."

"Band practice, Big Bill."

After the awkward silence that followed, Ben was kind enough to break the tension.

"Sure, Bill. I'll come."

Then, Beverly and Mike excused themselves with the same reason as Richie's, leaving Stan to give one last answer. That's when he sighed and asked the question that left the air even less breathable.

"What do you mean?" Ben inquired, after zero responses came.

What followed next wasn't directed towards him, but Ben did feel like he was being scolded. Stan had that power.

"I mean are you all kidding me?" Stan snapped, nowhere close to hearing Bill telling him to _'Take it easy, Stan.'_  
"I have no idea what's going on, but it's been three days now and I'm really not a fan of this 'neglecting each other's presence' thing." He looked around the table with obvious annoyance.

"Who's neglecting who, Stan?" Eddie's voice made everyone snap heads towards him, Richie included. He sounded exhausted and indifferent with this topic.

" _Oh_ , I don't know, Eddie. You just told us you had afternoon plans with your mom. Am I supposed to believe that's not an incredible childish excuse?"

Eddie didn't bother to answer, same dead eyes locked firmly with him.

"Just because you and Richie have something up your asses, doesn't mean you can't hang with your other friends, you know? That's us, right here." He motioned one hand around the table, knocking off a juice bottle in the process.

"Stan, that's enough." Beverly cut in. Richie looked down at his lunch.

"I'm only trying to solve things, it's not mature to pretend people don't exist because of a stupid-"

"You have the worst fucking methods for solving things, apparently." Eddie snarled at him. Richie groaned from his seat and buried his face on his hands.

Silence fell around the table again. Richie kept his face hidden for a second before he felt Bev's hand laying on his shoulder. He looked up at her with desperate eyes.

'Smoke?' She mouthed.

"Yes, please." He said out loud, leaving everyone without context. The two of them packed the remaining’s of their food. Beverly pecked Ben's lips and whispered something in his ear before they left through the cafeteria's door, leaving the group in an awkward silence.

After a while, Stan sighed. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. I don't like to see you fight, that's all."

"No one's fighting." Eddie said, poking his peas with the fork.

Stunned, Stan arched an eyebrow at him. "You're not?"

With a shrug, Eddie tried his best to explain. "No? I don't think so... There wasn't- we just-" He sighed.

"It's okay.” Stan said after the struggling. “You don’t have to tell us.”

Eddie nodded, shoulders slumped. “Thanks. Maybe one day I will…”

 

-

 

"I kissed him."

Beverly started to choke, Richie didn't know if it was on her own spit or from the cigarette she had been smoking the exact second he blurted that out to her.

"You _what,_ now?" She managed to say through her jagged breaths.

Richie, still in his adrenaline state from the confession, told her again. "I kissed Eddie." Then, he let his shoulders slump defeat.

The moment Bev's lips broke into the hugest grin, Richie grew so embarrassed he turned around from her and kicked the brick wall that belonged to the gym's outside. Beverly was on him in an instant, pushing him away from the wall so that she could face him from the front again, cigarette now stepped on the ground.

"No fucking way." She was beaming at him, eyes all sparkly. "I'm so proud of you, holy shit." Richie, very much red faced, stared at her in disbelief.

" _Uh..._ I don't know how to ask this without sounding insensible but... Are you blind? Deaf? Suffered from possible brain damage?" Her smile slowly started to fall, Richie felt like a jerk. "Bev, my love, guess why we're avoiding each other."

"Gee, thanks, I'm not that stupid." She looked at him with fake annoyance.

"But..." Richie moved his hands aimlessly. "Then why the hell are you proud?"

"Because!" She exclaimed, smile back on her face. "Rich, I'm gonna be honest. I never thought you'd grow balls to do that."

Richie gaped like a fish, his skin somehow feeling more and more hot with every passing second. "Alright, that's valid."

Beverly slapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, tell me the nitty details."

Richie shook his head and switched his weight on his feet, always finding new ways to fidget in place. He closed his eyes then, so as to not see her face when he said. "I basically tackled him... _Oh god._ Bev, fuck. It was a fucking mess." He sighed and threw his head back to look at the sky. "I cried like a baby..."

Everything was quiet for a moment, Richie didn't dare to look at her. He felt her hands resting on both his shoulders again. It made him relax.

"I'm sorry, Richie. You don't need to tell me, but you can, if that's what you need."

Richie exhaled through his nostrils and moved around her body without looking at her eyes, or he'd grow embarrassed. He sat down on the gravel, feeling the brick digging onto his back.

He sighed, determined. "I left with him on Monday, after we dropped you off at home."

Quietly, Beverly sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She stayed silent, a sign for Richie to continue.

"I... I don't know what came over me, but I was so happy. We were all so... so us. You know?" She hummed in agreement. "And, and I felt like, I needed to say something, Bev. I needed, or I would explode, you'd be seeing my guts around Derry for months." She actually laughed at that. Richie smiled despite his troubled emotions. "We argued in his room, as I told you.” A pause.  “I think-” He fell silent for a long time, Bev listened closely to his breathing.

 

"I think Eddie knew I was going to do something like that, so he tried to stop me." Richie gulped down the tiny knot in his throat. "That's when I ..." Bev grabbed one of his shaking hands. "And then I cried while we were-" Richie chuckled poorly. "Who the hell cries?"

"Richie, there's nothing wrong with crying." Her voice was soothing.

"Yeah, sure." He laughed. "You wouldn't get offended if someone kissed you and then burst into tears?"

She lifted her head and looked at him unamused. "We're talking Eddie here, dickhead. It's not like you two are strangers." Richie shrugged, unconvinced. His waterline was burning.

“That’s not my point, Bev.” He shook his head and let it fall against the wall. “I shouldn’t have done it when he clearly didn’t want me to.”

“Okay, and how do you know he didn’t?” With a groan, Richie kicked his legs out in front of him in a childish move. Beverly poked his side gently. "Can I ask you something?"

Richie didn’t say anything, so she kept going.

"Eddie kissed you back, didn’t he?” At a loss of words, Richie squealed when he started to feel way too warm again. “See? That proves my-”

“- _I know, I know!_ But I also know what he said to me after and that’s what matters in the end.”

“What matters is that you did something that clearly turned Eddie’s world around.” Richie slumped a little onto the wall. He was feeling a little lost, so he looked at Beverly and waited for an explanation.

“You made him experience something that he doesn’t know how to deal with. I think he needed this push, Rich, he can’t run away from what he feels now.”

“Unless, of course, he never talks to me again.” His tone made it sound like a joke, but Beverly saw right through it.

“Above anything else, Eddie is your best friend. He will come up to you, it might just take him longer.”

Richie didn’t feel the need to say anything else. He just sat there in silence, feeling way lighter now that he finally talked to someone. He looked at her, thankful, and Bev knew it was time to drop it.

Richie only broke the silence after six full minutes.

“Can you give me a stupid cigarette now?”

 

It was only hours later, when he was on his way home after band practice with a stomach full of homemade orange cake that Mike's mom had baked so kindly, that Richie got a clearer mindset on how to feel.

Ever since it happened, he had been stuck reliving Monday's night, completely unable to put it out of his mind for a second along with the stress that it brought. But today, for the first time, it faded away for a while. He didn’t know if it was because he opened up to someone, but he suspected that that had helped.

It was a weird explanation, and it confused him, too, but if he had to put it into words... It felt like... like he got to the top of a mountain. The way up there was rough, unpleasant. Now, he waited for the outcome, it wasn't up to him to decide anymore. (That was Eddie's job.) Richie either got to stay at the top, or he'd come tumbling down in an even harsher way than the climb. He'd let his body rest at the base, if that was the case.

It was done, there was no going back. He was waiting, because he did what he could, and now he was in this exquisite dullness until the outcome came slamming onto him.

Dull is good, neutral, he could deal with that. Even if his eyes still held hope and sadness when he biked his way home and had to cross Eddie's street.  
Yeah, he could deal with that, too. He had to.

 

-

 

It wasn’t supposed to become a self-destructive routine, but that was the only way Eddie could think to describe this. This, being him standing in front of his bedroom’s mirror trying to do something he wasn’t really sure would even work. He was starting to feel stupid and pointless. But still, it was the third night he stood here, quiet, unspeaking and judging himself in endless, soundless ways.

It's the third night he had to look at the childish knobs, the third night he had to stare at his reflection, and the third night he couldn’t help but search for every minor physical similarity he had with the woman who’s currently sleeping on her old recliner, downstairs. So, to put it simply, Eddie has been having the worst possible nights of his life.

His intentions were for this to be the last one.

For a different approach, Eddie started by looking down at the pale wood of his dresser instead of his own face. It was an easier confrontation.  
Then, he thought back to that first night when Richie found him asleep on his own desk. On that same night, Richie had said what Eddie was trying to, right now. He simply blurted it out, no hate, no disgust attached… It might have been thrown in on a joke, but it still mattered. Eddie could always see when Richie’s jokes were plain bullshit, or when they brushed reality under his breath.

He remembered so vividly waking up to the sound of the window knocking, his heart rate picking up while he locked the door, the breath of fresh air that entered his lungs when he stepped out onto his own roof.

 _‘The roof._ ’ Eddie thought suddenly, his neck straightening. He stared in the mirror, but instead of staring at himself, he looked at his window’s reflection, where the night stood, outside.  
Eddie gave one last, shaky breath before turning around and going straight to his windowsill. He unlocked it slowly, as little noise as possible, and tried not to shake too badly as he stepped onto the rooftop tiles.

There were always more places to find yourself in besides a reflection, and this was one of those places. Richie taught him, without the mean to, that this roof could be a refuge from all the things that happen inside his home.

He allowed himself to take in the night sky, the night scent and the night’s peace. The moon looked tiny tonight, but Eddie felt big for a change. He locked both knees close to his chest and hugged both legs with intertwined hands. Lastly, he inhaled profoundly, closed his eyes, and started off by inwardly practicing the same speech he has been planning to say out loud.

 _‘You kissed Richie._ ’ A gulp.

 _‘You kissed another boy.’_ A grimace.

“That’s fine.” Eddie eyes opened in shock, surprised that it fell out of lips without him trying to.

“You’re okay.” He tests the waters, his voice so weak it couldn’t be heard by anyone who tried. Eddie attempted to clear away the knot in his throat.  
With his premade speech forgotten, he decided to let his lips figure things out word by word. The whispers, although small, sounded stronger than Eddie as ever felt.

“You need to fix things and, and you’re normal… and you have feelings- so, what? Everyone does, that means you’re normal. You kissed a boy and it was Richie you liked it and that’s normal.” Eddie took a deep, unsteady breath and laid his body backwards so that he could stare at the sky. His hands fell by his hips, whole body tense but brave.

For the next words, however, Eddie did have to think and reform and rephrase for at least a couple of minutes, even though they were just two. And when he spoke them out to the night, they were still so far from feeling casual. Barely audible both by choice and small, inevitable hiccups.

“…You’re gay.” He said in a wheeze. _“I’m gay.”_

He waited for the moon to turn into something evil, he thought he’d be hit with more horrifying thoughts. But all there was to it was silence and the occasional crickets chirping on the tree next to his house. Eddie felt the smallest of chuckles leaving his mouth. He stood out there for longer than planned, until he could control his breathing again and until he had said those two words a few more times. They didn’t feel more familiar by the end of the night, but Eddie knew they would, with time.

When he brought up his hands to wipe his wet cheeks, he could feel the indents left behind by nails digging on skin.

Finding himself was harder than he expected.

 

 

_**Friday 28.05.1993** _

They had lunch outside today because the sun heating up the surface of their skin felt too good to pass up.

It was weird for Richie that his food, for the last week, could be considered a regular meal. No one had commented on it, but they still asked him if he wanted to eat whatever it was they couldn’t finish. Richie declined, but he didn’t pass up on the half jelly sandwich Ben offered today. It was homemade jam, _c’mon._

He stretched one arm over the table to accept it over from Ben, who was sitting on the same bench, but in opposite edges. Richie didn’t do it on purpose, but his eyes automatically travelled to the spot where Eddie was sitting, in front of Ben. He almost dropped the sandwich when he saw that Eddie was already watching him with a fond but small smile.

Sadly, said smile dropped as if Eddie had been caught doing something wrong, but Richie beamed back in his direction, maybe too much teeth, before taking a huge bite out of the bread. He saw Eddie’s eyes light up in the slightest, but the boy still looked down to his boring food.

The conversation around the table was flowing easily, the little argument from yesterday forgotten. Richie ate in silence with his eyes trailed either on the table, or on Stan, because looking at Stan was entertaining. There was always something to be noticing. He couldn't decide if he should chance it to look up in Eddie’s direction again, but there wasn’t a chance to choose. Richie’s eyes moved without his consent and landed on that same spot. Surprisingly, Eddie was still looking at him as if he was searching for answers while eating from the little container he brought filled with cherries.

He must have been lost in thought because it took him a fairly long time to react this second time. Richie stopped chewing when Eddie’s eyes widened slightly. With worry, he watched as Eddie bent himself over the end of the table and turned around to start coughing aggressively onto the patches of grass beneath their feet. He was choking.

Bill, who was sitting by Eddie’s side, gave one heavy slap on his ribs from behind, causing Eddie’s body to hunch forwards and almost fall of the bench.

_'Don't laugh. Don't laugh.'_

“Fucking hell, Bill.” Eddie cursed under a rough, grating voice while turning back up to the table, all red-faced and massaging a hand on his chest. “No need to kill me, it was just a stupid seed.”

In the midst of all the chatter and checks to see if Eddie was actually okay, Richie was having a hard time not making a joke about popping a cherry out loud. He snickered through his mouthful of bread and peach jam, and Eddie turned his head to look at him with fake offense.

“Don’t you dare laugh at my disgrace.” Eddie tried to throw a cherry in Richie’s direction but, at the same time, he fell on another coughing fit that had him miss the target. The cherry fell on Bev’s lunchbox instead.

Richie barely heard her complaints, too focused on Eddie’s features and laughing. Eventually, everyone calmed down, Eddie could breath normally again, and Richie was left smiling dumbly at the almost finished sandwich.

It didn’t matter to Richie whether he climbed that mountain in vain or not. As long as he could stick around to witness that smile everyday, there was nothing else he could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr : @eds-spaghets
> 
> Thank you always for reading and commenting or giving kudos, it means the world to me <3


	12. N.12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What conclusions did you come to?”
> 
> “That I might go home unless some sign tells me to go back in there.” Richie leaned forward against the steering wheel and let his arms spread out on the dashboard, as far as they could stretch. “Guess you came at a good time, huh?”
> 
> At that, Stan actually giggled and laid a hand on the back of Richie’s neck. “Ah, I knew I heard the voice of the Universe calling out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people that I love and appreciate.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter that had to be cut down the middle because I'd rather present you something smaller than nothing at all for 3 moths :D
> 
> I BEG YOU : when you see a '*' play the last three songs in this work's playlist right here: https://open.spotify.com/user/ofg4o5cwm94og54mdqumlu5im/playlist/7g5bJiHkHUr9U8cPTP4XPz?si=QWeBbYtlQZiGz4L-wvU9bw
> 
> play them in order (there's a total of 3 '*'s in the chapter)  
> -* Soda by Nothing but Thieves  
> -* I'm Not Ok by Weathers  
> -* Waterfall by Smashing Satellites
> 
> I worked my ass off to try and match the reading time with the lyrics, it'll make more sense if you listen in the right time while reading 
> 
>  
> 
> ENJOY

 

**_Saturday 29.05.1993_ **

 

“Has anyone seen Richie?”

At first, it surprised him that the words didn’t come out of his mouth. Instead, everyone looked up at Beverly, who had come up behind the couch with apprehension in her steps.  
Secondly, it annoyed him how everyone turned their heads to stare at him in hopes for an answer.

“What are you looking at me for? I’ve been with you ever since we got here.” Eddie defended himself from four inquiring pairs of eyes.

Bev huffed out in stress. “It’s not like we have things scheduled, but Mike and I haven’t seen him for over an hour.” Speaking of which, Mike chose that exact moment to appear behind the redhead speaking. The four heads that were fixed on Bev inched slowly to the left, trying to catch every word Mike said with all the noise in the barn.

“-Someone just told me they saw him heading down the street about the same time we lost sight of him.” Mike explained to her. His eyes pooled with uneasiness and Eddie was sure he, himself, looked similar, but he bottled it up.

“What?” She asked incredulous. “But where could he even go by foot?”

Bill raised his hand slowly and cleared his throat. “He d-did mention something about taking muh-my car keys earlier.” Now, yes. Eddie started to sweat.

No one actually said anything for a while, and then Mike had the decency to answer in the name of everyone before any of them could verbally attack Bill.

“And you simply gave them? To Richie?”

Bill raised both hands in defence. “He asked if I had a spuh-sspare jacket! I didn’t think much of i-it…”

“Okay, well. Great, I’ll go look for him.” Before Beverly had the chance to follow through her words, Stan got up and caught her wrist mid turning around. She looked back at him.

“I’ll go, if you don’t mind.”

Eddie felt something alike spikes inside his chest, later running down his arms and wrists and clenching his hands into fists, unwillingly. Usually, he was the designated ‘go get Richie’ of the group. It seems like he deserved to lose that role, at least until he fixed things.  
This particular thought was the start of a long chain of stress inducing others. When Eddie came back to reality after a few simple seconds, Stan had already abandoned the barn and now two more people were squeezed on the couch. He was glad he took the floor instead.

 

-

 

 It was weird.  
 Usually noise, specially music, was always welcomed, but at the moment there was nothing more blissful than the quiet of Bill’s parked car to Richie’s ears.

Initially, he wanted to free his mind a little, have something to do other than hang out with anyone inside. But once the excuse was used and he finally got some space to breathe inside the car, Richie was actually wondering how bad it would be to drive away and 1. Leave Mike and Bev hanging, and 2. Steal Bill, Ben, Stan and Eddie’s ride back home.

The need to leave came out of nowhere, hit him the forehead with a soundless flick to the brain. Richie would say he had been holding up decently, but tonight… nothing felt right. It was a permanent stressful press around his ribs that gave out a little warning if he even got as far as to inhale too deeply. Shallow breaths only. Just the amount necessary to keep your blood oxygenated.

It would have worked out for longer if he didn’t have a sudden craving for sighing out loud, tonight. Sighing takes more air; sighing means more aching. Who would have guessed a chest could be feel this heavy?

Richie dropped his head against the steering wheel in an act of pure exhaustion. It’s been almost a week since he told Eddie to “find himself”. Which was funny because it was a corny thing to say. But also now, Richie knew he left his own true self back in Eddie Kaspbrak’s bedroom. It sort of took the moral away.

It was the knocking on the window that made him jump further and, inevitably, press onto the horn button. Richie snapped his head up with the sound and stared at Stan’s similar startled expression on the other side of the window.  
He must have gotten a good scare, if the way he walked around the car with wide eyes and a hand over his chest meant anything. Richie followed him with his eyes until Stan was settled on the passenger seat and shut the door closed.

“That stupid horn made my heart stop.” Stan announced, simply.

“Thought it was my handsome face.” Richie retorted poorly.

“Why are you hiding out here? You got us worried.”

“That’s it? No lecture about, possibly, driving away without a license?” Richie threw his head back against the head-rest and closed his eyes.

“I think I gave you enough lectures this month.”

That took a good chuck out of him. “Yeah, that’s about right.” He heard Stan sigh, but neither talked for a moment.

“… Richie, I’m sorry for acting this way, sometimes.” Richie opened his eyes but decided against facing his friend. “For getting pissed off so easily, for being on top of you constantly when it’s not my place.”

“Nah.” He brushed him off. “I know that’s who you are. We get on each other nerves and that’s the fun of it.”

“Some might argue…” Stan whispered. Richie went on.

“Apology taken, though. But don’t stop lecturing me, I get off on those big words you use.”

Stan huffed; Richie could guess he rolled his eyes. “I’ll let that pass.” Richie turned sideways to face him. “I don’t know why you’re here, and I don’t need to know, but I thought it might be of your interest to tell you we had a really great time watching you guys last week.”

“You mean… Besides the lack on trust.”

“Besides our lack of trust.” Stan nodded in agreement. “Eddie and I feel sorry, I think you already know that, but here it is again. To remind you.”

It felt weird to have such a serious conversation with Stan, of all people. Stan was mostly made out of seriousness, but between Richie’s mood not being for fun at the moment and Stan showing any sort of honest affection… yeah, it was weird. Good, too.

“It’s a nice reminder.”

“Well I’d hope so.” Stan offered a short smile.

“To vaguely fill your curiosity, I don’t know why I’m here. T’was to much, just wanted to think.” Richie saw the exact moment Stan had to bite down a funny remark. They both sat there looking at each other with the need to chuckle out loud. It ended up fading.

“What conclusions did you come to?”

Sighing (again), Richie thought of a good way to answer. “That I might go home unless some sign tells me to go back in there.” He leaned forward against the steering wheel again and let his arms spread out on the dashboard, as far as they could stretch. “Guess you came at a good time, huh?”

At that, Stan actually giggled and laid a hand on the back of Richie’s neck. “Ah, I knew I heard the voice of the Universe calling out.”

 

Eventually, both of them left the car behind and made their way back. Once the barn’s structure became clearer under the night sky, Richie’s stomach started to turn without proper reasons. His uneasiness must have shown, because Stan bumped shoulders with him and added with a clear voice.

“Who knows, maybe tonight will go better than you expect.”

 

-

 

"Goodnight everyone." Mike's soothing voice spread out evenly through the room. Richie stared religiously at his back covered by an orange toned flannel. "It seemed to us that last week we managed to deliver a new sort of fun for you." The somewhat small crowd cheered. "Hopefully, tonight will be just as great, with a few twists."

Feeling lucky, Richie stole a glance in the direction of the couch. He was pleased to see everyone focused on Mike. Eddie was included in that group, his eyes were shiny, reflecting the warmth from the rows of hanging bulbs. And he had that look in his eyes… Richie knew it very well.  
It was close to worship, adoration, completely absorption and amaze by what caught Eddie's attention. In simple words, Eddie was angelical in that moment, pure intentions and interests beyond his skin.  
Richie gulped.

"What we bring to you tonight is something a bit more personal, yet still great for all of you in a hardcore mood to party." Mike's communication skills were obviously different from Richie's, and if he weren't so utterly fucking sober and self-aware, maybe he would have the audacity to joke about it once they were back with their friends. But let's be fair, if Richie weren't so utterly fucking sober, he'd be the one talking to the public right now.

Mike cleared his throat before finishing. "Here are some originals we put our hearts into. We hope you enjoy." Richie waited until Mike turned around and sat on his stool. The three of them shared looks.

 _‘Okay, this is it.’_ Richie thought. _‘A moment I think will matter for life but probably won’t.’_

Richie stood there, facing not only a crowd but his two former bandmates. This was all planned. They agreed to keep Richie's identity as the author of the songs a secret. They also agreed to the new setup.

They stood in a triangle, but Richie was in the far back. Mike and Bev completed the other two vertices, standing in the front closer to the crowd. But they were all facing inwards, they were all facing each other. It closed them to the public, it made it more theirs. It stated that "This is for us, not for you. But you can enjoy it if you want."

It made it more special, and Richie couldn't feel more grateful than in the exact moment he saw Bev and Mike lock eyes with each other and share a smile.

They were ready when he was.

_They were_

"Ready when you are." Bev mouthed, to him and only him. Anyone else could only see part of her profile.

Richie closed his eyes and unclenched his fists. He emptied his mind from outer distractions or intrusive, unwelcomed thoughts and let his fingertips slide through the guitar’s strings.

*Mike didn’t fail to follow Richie’s lead immediately, completing the harmony created by their two instruments. It was as perfect as it could ever sound. It made the wood beneath their feet vibrate. The floor, the walls, the people and _the_ people. It made Richie’s heart pulsate with something new.

 

_I'm an exception, it's hard to accept  
Because I try to be happy, but then I forget_

_They tell me I need to chill, man,  
It's all in your head _

_Maybe I'm paranoid_

(The smallest break between verses opened space for whistles and cheers. _Richie was vibrating alright.)_

 

_I don't wanna be myself,  
It's making me so unwell_

For the chorus, Beverly joined him with her perfectly tamed voice.

_I don't wanna be myself  
Just wanna be someone else_

…On his side of things, Eddie sat there with empty hands. He felt incredibly alone. In the crowd, no one cared about who was next to each other; and on stage, the three of them didn’t have a single drop of attention on the rest of the room. If Eddie’s chest hadn’t tightened yet with the words coming out of Richie’s mouth, it surely would after what he heard next.

 

_I once had a thought but don't know where it went  
'Cause I've been living off soda and cheap cigarettes_

  
_Maybe when I was a kid, I was dropped on my head_  
 _Yeah, that would make some sense…_

In that moment, a brief image of Richie’s parents came to Eddie’s mind, like a faded, old photograph. He thought about the two adults he met as a kid, they were the cool parents of the group, they were the ones who always welcomed sweaty, dirty children into their house to have a mid-afternoon snack. That image went away as quickly as it came, Eddie tried not to read into things too much but there was a sour aftertaste on the back of his throat. Maybe it was a simple knot.

He allowed his mind to wander while they sang the chorus three more times, each successively less heated. It didn’t take a genius to know who wrote the song, and Eddie had the feeling that next ones would all fit into Richie’s lips like they were born from them. They were, Eddie knew they were. But he didn’t know what to do with that information.  
This was new, this was Richie himself coming clean about his self-view. Exposing himself to others and allowing everyone to see him as vulnerable. Eddie supposed it made sense that they didn’t state who wrote tonight’s music. They didn’t need to know that much.

His heartbeat was slowing down as if an organ had the ability to feel sad and blue. What was the point of questioning things like that, anymore? They’ve seen enough to believe anything. Right now, Eddie believed that Richie was the bravest person alive. And he knew that he, himself, would never conquer half the things Richie would.

Superficially, he couldn’t help but think about the possibilities of subjects that could come with the next songs while the current one finished with a calm, repeated guitar solo. His weaker side gave it to wondering if there would be anything written about him, about _them_.

 _I don't wanna be myself_  
 _It's making me so unwell_  
  
_I don't wanna be myself_  
 _Just wanna be someone else_

The cheering broke his thoughts away, Eddie caught a glimpse of an inside moment between his three talented friends. * Between heavy breaths and reassuring smiles, they instantly drove off onto a new, more energetic sound. Eddie watched, completely absorbed, to Richie’s frenetic head banging and wild hair swaying. At least he seemed to be having fun, Eddie couldn’t ask for more.

_I can be a handful_   
_But that's why you have two hands_   
_I'm not ever careful_   
_And I can be rude, yeah_

Defeated, Eddie sank further onto the couch. It seemed that tonight’s track was fixed on a sadder note, if you were to ignore the instrumental and the smiles that painted three faces.

_Too many issues, so I wouldn't blame you  
Bearer of bad news, I've got no excuse_

_I talk to myself. I think I need help,_  
_So what if I’m not okay? I'm not okay_  
 _I'm bad for my health,_  
 _My head's on a shelf._

With the next verses, Eddie felt himself straighten his body from the couch and sitting closer to the edge. It didn’t help to calm his heart rate down that Richie finally, _finally_ , smiled and looked right back into his eyes.

 _Drinking on a Monday_  
_Feeling unstable_  
 _You said "You're doing it the wrong way"_  
 _Then you got up on a table_

Despite fighting against it, Eddie chuckled at the memory of Richie struggling with a trashcan to get up on the roof. He remembered that Monday night like it was yesterday, when in reality, a whole month has gone by. And holy shit, how much things changed in just a month.  The more he thought about it, the more the crowd faded into numbness and the more the voice in his ears sounded blissful, even though it was a tiny bit too rough to be called that.

Eddie didn’t care anymore, what Richie’s voice did to him was out of this world. It wrecked him right to the core, undressed his emotions down to the purest, unspeakable ones. It was something he was sure he’d never get over, and Eddie even went as far as to wish he had found this side of Richie sooner, way, way sooner.

_(So what if I’m not okay?  
I’m not okay.)_

_(I'm just like everyone else,  
Fucked up like everyone else.)_

The next round of applause and cheering was enough to cut the line of Eddie’s thoughts. He jumped slightly on his seat, only now realising he had been staring (dreamily) at Richie while still on the edge of the couch. He awkwardly scooted back against the cushions and joined everyone’s praise at the band. He could see how euphoric Ben was from the corner of his eye. Eddie wished he had the same freedom to love and support a partner.

Instantly, his face got warm. The implications of that particular thought were way to clear to be ignored. _God,_ Eddie was asking himself what those reasons behind him staying clear from more alcohol experimentations tonight were. He soon remembered exactly why-

“Alright everyone, we promise just another one and then you’re free from us.” Bev giggled as she spoke, turning her head sideways to make more eye contact with the generous amount of people entranced in their performance.  
Eddie smiled sheepishly, that awkward shyness over the attention his friends get still messed with him in an unpleasant way. He couldn’t help it, Eddie despised attention, foreign eyes are unwelcomed. Tonight, however, he was doing a better job at forgetting about that particular part than he was on the last party.

Two things happened at the same time to make Eddie’s eyes widen. They were two small things, but still. One, Richie took a big breath and opened his mouth to speak; and two, Eddie felt weight dropping on his shoulder. It was his instinct acting that instantly made him look at what was weighting him down. He found Bill’s head carefully placed on his smaller shoulder. In reality, Eddie wished he could have commanded his attention to never leave Richie, but when he turned back to the stage with a small smile on his lips (which he didn’t understand the reasons behind), Richie was looking down at his guitar. It was somewhat shocking that he managed to keep the words he planned on saying, down. Eddie deflated on the inside, otherwise Bill’s head would fall off his shoulder.  
On a bad day, Eddie would have said he wasn’t comfortable with the physical contact because he didn’t want others to get their noses involved, but tonight was a calm night for those types of feelings. Tonight he had to be stronger than to give in on that.

Tonight was important for many different reasons. A new one to add to the list was the depressing level of Richie’s, or so he thought, lyrics. This time, Eddie wouldn’t make more hurtful mistakes.

 

Richie didn’t know what he opened his mouth for. He didn’t think much before speaking, maybe that was what if felt like. In fact, he didn’t really have anything useful to say, his mood wasn’t the complete best. So in short, it was better to shut the fuck up and go on with the number one act of the night.

Nerves weren’t that common for him with these things, but he was, in fact, weighting down the possibilities of his stomach dropping so low he would blow chunks all over his sneakers.

Richie closed his eyes, took the millionth deep breath of the night, and focused on Bev’s old, wise words while exhaling through his nose.

_(“We should play some of your originals next time.”)_

Richie smiled fondly at the bitter sweetness on his tongue.  
He did what she said, he sang about himself, twice. But the whole point of the night didn’t reside in any of those two songs, but on the third and final one.

_(“Something about relevant people in your life.”)_

Tonight, Richie would be singing to his parents.

* He kept his eyes closed as he felt the neck of the guitar under his hands. The angry, skilled picking echoed through the barn and his heart skipped a beat once Mike and Bev nailed their entrance, like always. What they tried to accomplish with the melody of this piece was that anyone who heard it would feel it sink in their veins in something unpleasant, revolted and livid. Even if they didn’t pay enough attention to the words, it wouldn’t leave anyone indifferent.

It was Richie’s way of screaming, the only escape from being this angry with everyone around him. He bottled those emotions up and saved them from this exact moment, to pour them sourly all over the stage as easily as blood flows out of an open wound.

_Nothing,_   
_You always say I'm nothing_   
_Those words fucking haunt me, they do_

_Cast out,_   
_Make me feel like I'm a cast out_   
_Always say that I am too loud, I am_

_The things you say always leave me_   
_Drowning in tears_   
_They're pulling me under_   
_I'm a waterfall, a waterfall_

Richie’s eyelids fluttered open while he sang. His blood was boiling with adrenaline and nameless emotions. Mike’s arms were moving just as harshly, his whole body threatening to jump out of the small stool and jab both drumsticks through the material of the bass drum.  
Bev’s part in this particular song was crucial, the main reason the instrumental reached deep into people’s bones and made shivers and goose bumps break their skin was due to her pre-recorded sound mixes. They were fucking messed up in just the right way. The three of them put their whole hearts into this. And maybe they were biased, but if you asked Richie, the hard work showed off perfectly.

 _Crazy_  
_Feel like I'm going crazy_  
 _Your games are quite amazing, they are_

_Toxic_   
_Like chemicals you’re toxic_   
_Your poison makes my head sick, it does_

It was only inevitable to let the swirling memories of a childhood inside his head, but it was another thing to let them drown you. Richie had enough of the sorrow, he now wanted to move forward and grow up to be better than his parents.  
He tried, for a really long time, to find the turning point. Was it a day that went wrong? Was it something he did? Could it be another random thing that he had no control over?  
No matter how hard he searched through his memory, he couldn’t seem to find the reason his family broke apart like this.

_Drowning in fear_   
_It's pulling me under_   
_I'm a waterfall, a waterfall_   
_Drowning in tears_

He could almost guess that… maybe it was always that way.

Maybe it was his child mind that didn’t see it at the moment, worried about more important matters, like crayons and Star Wars’ toys. Maybe his friends liked his parents better because they weren’t all that worried about their messes or curfew. Maybe, if he asked Bill, Richie would be sure that he saw more liquor bottles than milk cartons on his kitchen counter before he turned 10. But they were way too young to notice, they were way too young to care.

Maybe, this was all a string of failures.

Richie would never get those answers.

 

-

 

He jumped out of the stage after setting his guitar on its stand, Bev and Mike had already made their way to their other friends. Richie was expecting a group hug as he made his way over. What he wasn’t expecting, however, was that the six of them were waiting for him with smiles on their faces and… tears. Richie let his mouth hung open as he came to a stop. The two that performed with him wore proud smiles, but there were actual tears streaming down Bill’s face, and Eddie’s…  
The smaller boy was standing in the middle, looking up at him with crossed arms and big, wet eyes that made Richie’s heart tear down the middle. Richie kept staring at him. He wanted more than anything to jump in on the hug that Eddie clearly wanted to give. But he had space to keep until Eddie decided to close it.

Eventually, Ben (that fucking angel) pushed Eddie onto Richie’s direction, which proved to be enough to break Eddie’s hesitation. The boy practically threw himself onto Richie’s arms, squeezing his mid-section so hard that Richie worried for his ribs’ well-being. No one needed to know that he squeezed back just as hard. A second later, five other pairs of arms were joining the big bundle of bodies, which gave him such an overwhelming amount of affection that Richie felt tears pooling up in his waterline as well.

“Hey Eds, I hope you don’t mind getting snot all over your hair.” Great, his big mouth was working again, and his throat was extremely dry, which turned his words raspy. Richie was caught by surprise when Eddie only squeezed him harder, completely ignoring the implications of what he had said. That gave him the strike of energy necessary to lift Eddie up for a total of two seconds, which was all he could handle. He swore he heard muffled giggles.

“We’re so ss-sappy.” Bill was the first to break the hug in order to wipe his face. This was such good blackmail material for when he sobered up. Bill was a rollercoaster of funny sights when he drank. The hug dispersed, and Richie felt the hesitation behind Eddie’s movements as he recoiled both arms into his own chest again.

Richie copied Bill’s previous actions and tried to wipe away his unshed tears as subtly as possible, he still noticed Eddie looking up at him from his side without a word.

To bring everyone back from the emotional turmoil to a closer sense of normality, Richie gave away one exaggerated sigh before speaking. “I’m so thirsty right now I could drink all of your moms’ breastmilk in one go.” To which he gladly took all of the complaints, groans and things like: ‘That’s so not funny.’ Or ‘You had to ruin it.’ And even ‘That’s fucking disgusting.’ That could have only come from one specific firecracker boy. But he still heard the faint ‘Love you Rich.’s that were kindly thrown at him as they made their way over to one of the tables that served as a drink station.

No one saw him stay behind, but Eddie didn’t mind. He wasn’t particularly ready to act normal just yet, but he also didn’t want to ruin anyone’s mood. So he needed a moment to ground himself, and he watched his friends’ backs for a moment. There were many people in the way, but Eddie settled himself against the backrest of the couch and waited a total of 30 seconds, the time it took for Richie to down 2 cups of mango juice. Then, lacking self-control, his body jumped away from the couch and he marched his confident way to Richie’s side. He even got as close as to tap Richie’s shoulder blade.  
All it took was Richie turning around with the corners of his eyes scrunched up due to a genuine smile, and Eddie melted away onto the wooden floor without another word. Or at least that’s what it felt like. In reality, he stood there, speechless, with his mouth hung open long enough for Richie’s smile to twist into a worried frown.

Eddie’s heart was probably testing out some acrobatic moves, if the way it was jamming against his ribcage had anything to do with that. Little did he know Richie’s was in a similar state, and that he had a hard time swallowing down his last gulp of juice once he turned around to find Eddie standing there, looking up at him with big, doe eyes.

Then, Eddie’s fingers wrapped around Richie’s wrist. The movement was soft and strong at the same time, Richie thought that was one of millionth perfect ways he had to describe Eddie as a whole.

He wished he had more time to process the look in Eddie’s eyes in the moment he ordered him to

“Come with me, Rich.”

It didn’t sound like a question at all.

“Please.”

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to put their talk (finally uh?) in this chapter as well. But school will get awful in the next week so I had to delay that ):
> 
> Also, I tried something a bit different with the writing in this chap. I tend to mess up a lot with scene transitions and I end up giving up for days, this time I jumped to the main actions which made it quicker to write. Let me know if I should go back to more descriptive scene transitions!
> 
> Thank you for always leaving comments and kudos, I love you guys so much
> 
> (are we going to mention the IT trailer?) come at me with thoughts on tumblr @eds-spaghets


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